


Take a Bite of My Heart Tonight

by EntreNous



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Animals, Bones is an Amazing Vet, Borrowing Pets, But He's Also An Enormous Grump, He Just Doesn't Know It Yet, Jim Is So Smitten, M/M, Past Infidelity Mention, Pets, Trust Issues, Veterinarian Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Veterinary Clinic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-09 20:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11676846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy get off on the wrong foot as soon as they meet.  So if Jim wants another shot with that gorgeous but grumpy veterinarian, he had better get his hands on some pets who need vet appointments, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my entry for the 2017 WiP Big Bang! I first wrote a snippet of this fic nearly a year ago and then let it languish for ages; I'm so glad I had the WiP Big Bang to inspire me to finish it. I owe huge thanks to [RowanBaines](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanBaines/works), who gave me such thoughtful beta help even though I lobbed the entire fic at them a few days before I had to post. Thank you also to [getinthefuckingjaeger](https://tmblr.co/mF0GoAopSAH4s8SCtsWJb-Q), who posted [a hilarious tumblr headcanon about Jim trying to get with a veterinarian version of Bones](http://getinthefuckingjaeger.tumblr.com/post/149360649775) that absolutely inspired this story.
> 
> August 1st is my posting date at the WiP BB, so I'll be sharing all five chapters of this story (plus a quick epilogue) throughout the day/evening today. I really hope you enjoy it!

"So are you going to give me Oliver's number or not?" Jim asks. He side-steps two women hurrying past him on the sidewalk and barely manages to keep hold of his large coffee and bag of pastries. 

"And help you put another notch in your bedpost?" Uhura asks. Even over the phone, Jim can envision the disapproval radiating off her in waves. "No thanks."

"Well, to be completely on the up-and-up, there's not always a bed involved when I hook up with these guys." As he strolls by a café, an older man seated outside gives him a skeptical once-over. The guy's a little on the silver-foxy side for Jim's tastes but still pretty hot. When Jim winks at him, the man shakes his head but smiles into his latte.

"I'm not going to be party to another instance of you sexing and ditching one of my friends," Uhura says firmly. "It's a waste of their time."

"Oh, I can tell you right now, I make sure it's not a waste of their time."

"Well, you know what? It's definitely a waste of mine. Who do you think has to listen to them crying into their Caipirinhas afterward? If I have to hear one more guy ask why you keep ghosting him when there was obviously something special between you, I will make you pay big time."

"Aww," Jim says sympathetically. "You know, I'm not actually trying to be a heartbreaker here. I'm just a really charming red-blooded guy -- and I always make it clear that we're only having some fun."

Uhura sighs noisily. "I don't object to that part. You should do what you want as long as it's fun for you. But can you leave my friends out of it?"

"I guess so." Jim takes a swig of his coffee as he approaches the next intersection. "But what do you say we grandfather Oliver in? He was so into me when I met him at Edie's party. Come on, what else do you want me to do?"

"I don't know; jump the very next hottie who crosses your path?" Uhura says. "In fact --"

While Uhura launches into lecture-mode, two teenagers sprinting around the corner jostle Jim, and his bag starts to slip from his hand. Of course that would have to be a moment that a black lab mix prances straight into Jim, excitedly tangles him in his leash, and manages to knock down and nose his way into the open pastry bag to see what treasures he's unearthed.

"Hey!" Jim says indignantly. He looks around to locate the dog's owner and his lips part.

"Don't 'hey' me," Uhura tells him over the phone. "You know it's true. And furthermore --"

"Look, I'm going to have to call you back; there's been an emergency," Jim says, not taking his eyes off the frowning but incredibly fuckable man on the other end of the dog's leash. 

"Oh my god, did you actually scope out a new prospect just now?" is her last incredulous question before Jim ends the call.

"Get out of there, Jack," the man growls to the dog that has begun to wrestle the bag, trying to make yummy stuff fall out. "You know I won't let you eat that sort of trash." He tugs the dog back into an obedient sit position with a firm hand and reaches down to scoop up the now spit-covered sack of pastries. 

"Oh boy, there goes my delicious breakfast," Jim says with a grin. "Hi, I'm Jim. Any ideas about how you might make it up to me?" He casts his eyes down the man's seriously stellar body and takes his time making the journey back up again. 

"It's not my fault you can't keep hold of a bag," the man says, rolling his eyes. He thrusts the soggy bag at Jim, hitting him in the chest. "Besides, you really shouldn't eat that trash like that either."

"It's not trash," Jim objects even as he handles the gross bag gingerly. "There was a delicious raisin brioche in there, and a gigantic flaky croissant!" It's actually enough to share, something Jim would have suggested by now if the bag wasn't already damp with doggy saliva, and if the guy could stand to flash him a smile already.

At Jim's description, Jack the dog perks up again. He's clearly on board with Jim's carb-heavy meal plan even if his owner has begun to look a little red in the face, like amazing breakfast items personally offend him. 

But even steaming mad as he obviously is he's one of the hottest guys Jim has met in a while. His body is one hundred percent made for climbing: tight long-sleeved t-shirt showcasing muscular arms, nice thick thighs under the dark blue jeans he's wearing, and from what Jim's glimpsed so far, an amazing ass. Too bad he also looks like he wants to wring Jim's neck.

It's lucky that Jim's a wizard at turning around disastrous situations to get what he wants; it's what made him almost head to grad school on a full ride for International Relations before he decided wearing tweedy jackets and acting scholarly wasn't for him. He takes a breath and changes tack: win over the dog first. 

He's sure it's the best approach, because Jack is obviously ridiculously friendly and half in love with Jim already. He's watching Jim attentively, ears flickering even as he sits in place to obey his owner. 

"I guess I can't blame you for wanting to take a bite out of something delicious, can I?" Jim croons to the dog, who cocks his head to the side before relaxing his jaw in a panting grin. "Aww, you're such a sweetheart! Why don't I give you one tiny piece of croissant?" He glances up and grins, maneuvering the bag so he's giving the guy a good view of his torso and arms. "How about it? I'll give him a taste, so he'll know what he's missing out on? A little incentive to be good next time?"

"No treats unless we're training his obedience or agility skills," the guy barks. "Fatty sugary stuff like that shouldn't go in any creature's mouth, much less a dog on a strict diet." At that he makes a move to the side, clearly intent on continuing on his way. But Jim, under the guise of fumbling and readjusting the bag in his arms once more, quickly blocks his path. 

"Well, whatever you're doing with him, it's working," Jim says. "What a handsome boy you are!" He gets down on one knee and starts to give ear-scritches; the doggy's tail thumps enthusiastically, and he slobber-licks Jim's hand. "Just so you know, I can get behind the whole strict thing," he tells the man. "I mean, if that's what you're into." 

"You dimwit," the man snaps at him. "Don't pet strange dogs without asking their owners first! You could get your hand bit off that way!"

"I don't know. Aren't some of them all bark and no bite?" Jim says suggestively. He looks up at the guy, keeping his lids at half-mast, the best bedroom eyes he's got in his arsenal, and pitches his voice lower. "Of course, a little biting is okay sometimes, right? Between friends?"

This is usually the part where the other guy scrambles to ask for Jim's digits.

Instead the man with the dog outright scowls at him. "What you don't know about dogs is a lot. I'm assuming you don't have your own pets, and thank goodness for that." He pulls once on the leash, and the doggy, after casting one last longing look at the bag in Jim's hands, trots after his owner as he stalks away.

Jim watches him go, partly because it's a fantastic view, but mostly because he's obviously got to put a little distance between himself and Mr. Grumpy before he gives chase.

He's subtle about it, of course. When the guy pauses at the next corner and glances around, Jim ducks into a doorway. Then a few blocks later, when the man throws a suspicious glare over his shoulder, Jim manages to melt into a crowd of hipsters clustered by a used record store.

It's not that he's lured in by someone refusing to pay him any attention, he tells himself as he crouches behind a car. It's that, well, the guy is interested in Jim. He just doesn't know it yet. 

Finally the man arrives at what seems to be his destination: McCoy Animal Hospital. He crosses his arms (really making those biceps pop) and lets the dog sniff around at the doorway before he pushes inside.

Jim counts to thirty after the door swings shut before sneaking up to the entrance. The coast appears clear inside the glass door, just a few receptionists and veterinary techs hanging out behind a big counter, so he smiles brightly and heads in.

"Good morning! I'm supposed to meet a friend of mine here," Jim says to a tall blonde standing behind the counter. He smiles a little wider when she glances up. "He had to bring his dog in for an appointment, and I said I'd tag along, you know. Moral support." At the end he lets his face fall a little, implying his friend's really going to need his buddy there for this one. 

"Oh, of course." She looks full of compassion as she glances down at her clipboard. "We've just admitted several animals with their owners. What's the name?" 

"Uh." Jim licks his lips and tries to think fast. Tall, dark, and gorgeous didn't exactly introduce himself. He tried to peer at her clipboard for a hint, but she's holding it against her chest. 

He's about to give up the angle when he remembers that he did learn someone's name this morning. "Jack, Jack is the name of his dog," he blurts out. "You probably have the appointment under that name anyway." He leans on the counter and tries to look trustworthy while he takes note of her nametag reading _Christine_.

Christine frowns at her list. "No dog named Jack has checked in. In fact, I don't think we've had a 'Jack' in the office in quite some time -- other than Dr. McCoy's dog, of course."

"Dr. McCoy's dog?" Jim repeats.

"Jack is our office dog. Dr. McCoy brings him in daily," a young man sitting in front of a computer screen contributes cheerfully.

Jim has dated lots of kinds of guys, from fast-talking salesmen to earnest human rights lawyers to shy thick-set bricklayers to bearded bohemian accountants (and, one time, a nerdy fast food mascot who had looked weirdly appealing in his hotdog costume). But he's never gotten a veterinarian into bed before. 

"That's Doctor...Heinz McCoy?" Jim guesses. Usually offering a wacky first name throws people enough that they immediately tip him off to the real name. "He's Jack's owner?" 

"Doctor _Leonard_ McCoy," Christine corrects him. She gestures to a wall featuring photos of the animal hospital's veterinarians. 

Sure enough, staring out of one of the frames is Jim's hot-as-hell dog owner, glowering like he's about to rip into the photographer for taking too long to snap the picture. For some reason, Jim can't help but grin back at that frown-y face.

"Even if he's not here yet, you're welcome to wait for your friend in the reception area."

Jim blinks, remembering he's technically still in the middle of a conversation with Christine. "You know what," he says slowly. "I just remembered...my friend's appointment is for tomorrow." 

"Oh! Well, I'm sure we'll see you tomorrow then." She flashes him a knowing look, like she's figured out he's up to something, even if she's not certain what it is yet.

"But uh, while I'm here, can I make a different appointment? For my, um --" Jim glances about wildly and settles on a poster on the wall. It features a weird fur-less cat with the infographic _Your Elderly Feline_. "My old cat. Penelope. She's just...she's so old. And she really needs the best veterinary attention this town can offer."

Christine waves him toward the young man behind the reception desk. "I'm sure Pavel can help you out." She picks up a stack of files and glides away. 

"Pavel, hey," Jim says, smiling winningly as he refocuses his attention. "I'm Jim. Jim Kirk."

"Hello, Jim," Pavel says shyly. He ducks his head and begins to type rapid fire on his computer, obviously calling up some kind of scheduling program. "May I get your information first?"

"Sure, no problem." 

"Did you have a preference for Penelope?" Pavel asks a few moments later, after he's finished inputting the basic information Jim gives him.

"For who?" Jim asks absently.

"Your cat, Penelope," Pavel reminds him. "The elderly one. Which veterinarian would you like her to see?"

"Oh, right! Right. Well, I definitely want Dr. McCoy to take over Penelope's care. I've heard really great things about him." Jim taps out a cheerful little beat on the counter with his hands, partly to distract Pavel from recalling Jim only heard about Dr. McCoy thirty seconds ago. 

"Hmm." Pavel frowns, clicking and typing as he scans the screen. "Dr. McCoy is booked for several weeks, and it seems he is no longer taking new clients. What about Dr. M'Benga? He recently joined the practice from another well-esteemed veterinary clinic. And due to a cancelation we just received, he has an appointment available at the end of next week."

"See, the thing is, Pavel, it has to be Dr. McCoy, absolutely has to. And it has to be quick. Because Penelope is, well." Jim clears his throat and blinks until he starts to tear up. "She's very sick."

"Oh no," Pavel says, his big eyes widening. His tap-tap-tapping on the keyboard grows more urgent. "I could get another appointment for her if I allow you to take a slot normally reserved for returning clients. Tomorrow would be the soonest, but it would be with Doctor Tamura. I can assure you, though, that all of our veterinarians are highly skilled. Penelope would surely receive the very best care."

"Nope, it's got to be McCoy," Jim insists. "It's just that my kitty cat means so much to me, you know? Come on, isn't there any way you can squeeze me in with him as soon as possible?" When Pavel hesitates, biting his lip, Jim adds with a hint of a tremor in his voice, "Me and Penelope?"

"Well." Pavel glances over his shoulder. Everyone else seems occupied; there's a man who came in after Jim with a squawking cat in a crate, forking over money for what looks like a thousand cans of wet food, and two women patiently waiting with their big golden retriever, who sprawls on the floor panting amiably at everyone. 

"I could create a very short appointment for you tomorrow," Pavel says in an undertone. "If it is a true emergency."

"It's a huge emergency, Pavel, it really is," Jim assures him. "I can't thank you enough." After all, it's been almost an entire week since he's gotten laid, and based on Doctor Leonard McCoy's off-the-charts hotness, this as a completely legitimate crisis.

* * *

"Absolutely not," Uhura says, clutching her long-haired calico Maisie to her chest.

"Come on, please? I know I can get a date with this hot vet guy if he gives me a couple of minutes. But we got off on the wrong foot, so it won't be easy to get a couple of minutes unless I go to this fake-y appointment. And for that fake-y appointment, I need an actual living and breathing cat."

"But Maisie doesn't even like you."

"What are you talking about? Maisie loves me!" Jim goes to tickle Maisie's chin, but pulls his hand back quickly when Maisie swats at him.

"Jim, I'm not letting you borrow my cat so you can trick some guy into bed."

"It wouldn't be tricking," Jim says, putting his hand over his heart. "I'm going to get him to have sex with me on completely above-board terms. I just need to trick him into talking to me first, see?"

She stares at him. "What are the chances you'll let this drop?"

He tilts his head to the side and pretends to consider it. "Zero?"

She shakes her head slightly. But when he turns a pleading look on her, she huffs and says, "Okay. But if I'm going to let you do this, you have to get Maisie an actual check-up. And pay for the entire thing."

Jim almost protests, but Uhura looks like she might try taking a swat at him herself. "Done."

"Including all the shots she needs. She's due for her vaccinations."

"Seriously? This is starting to sounds a little pricey."

"Yeah, well, you owe me for this favor. The visit, her shots, and whatever else comes up -- you're going to cover every expense of this ridiculous plan, Jim."

He peers at Maisie, who is glaring at him from the safety of Uhura's embrace. Her eyes seem to have gone permanently dilated as her tail whips back and forth. She looks healthy, shiny, and like she could definitely hold her own in a brawl. What kind of veterinary expenses could possibly come up? "No problemo," Jim says, smiling. This is going to be a piece of cake.

* * *

"She does not look very old," Pavel says doubtfully when Jim returns the next day with Maisie letting out hair-raising warning _mraaowww_ s to all and sundry from her soft carry-case. 

Jim freezes, his pen hovering over the sheets of paperwork Pavel had handed him to fill out. 

"Because you explained yesterday that the very ill cat you would bring in was elderly," Pavel supplies.

Jim does a quick rewind of yesterday's conversation in his brain and laughs. "Aren't you nice? Maisie, did you hear that? You just got a hell of a compliment! Even though you're sick and old, you're still a stunner!"

Pavel gives Jim and the cat a bashful smile, but then his brow furrows. "I thought her name was Penelope?"

Jim only gawps for a moment before he recovers. "...totally, absolutely, you have an amazing memory Pavel! Her name is definitely Penelope. I just call her Maisie sometimes. It's...a nickname from Penelope. Really common, actually." When Pavel glances at him doubtfully, Jim rattles off, "I mean, sometimes I call her...Whoopsie Doodle. And sometimes Fuzzy Buttkins. Nicknames are great!"

"Oh, of course," Pavel says, ducking his head to finish his typing. 

When a man with an ornery Toucan shows up insisting his bird needs a special treat that he can't remember the name of, Jim leaves Pavel to it and gingerly carries Maisie over to one of the benches lining the room. Luckily she gets tired of yowling after about fifteen minutes, but Jim has to send a lot of _What can you do?_ shrugs and apologetic smiles to the other waiting clients before then. 

Finally, twenty minutes in, a vet tech comes out with a clipboard and calls out, "Penelope Maisie Whoopsie Doodle Fuzzy Buttkins Kirk?" Somehow she manages to get through the whole thing with a straight face.

"Right here," Jim says. 

A woman with a smooshy-faced dog (that's been snorting and snorgling at a rawhide toy for the past five minutes) turns and gives Jim a look. "Those are a lot of names for a cat."

"Well, she's a lot of cat," Jim says as he gets to his feet. Of course, even though he lifts slowly and supports the carrier from the bottom (Uhura had made him practice it about twenty times with a bag of sugar inside as a "practice cat" before she would even consent to heave Maisie into it), Maisie still lets out a terrifying screech at being the tiniest bit inconvenienced.

As the vet tech leads them down a hallway, the cat switches to low, mournful meows, more painful to listen to than an awful afternoon of Irish dirges Jim had once paid good money to see (on account of the sexy tenor soloist he wanted to get with). 

Luckily once they're in the examination room Maisie submits to the tech taking her vitals without any bloodshed though she starts to yowl again when the tech tries to check out her teeth. 

"Dr. McCoy will be in very soon," the tech assures him before she flees the caterwauling.

After she's gone, Maisie shimmies back into her open carrier and starts to calm down. She still lets out an indignant _RAOWR!_ when Jim tries to give her a comforting poke through a small opening in the carrier, though. So he retreats and tries not to stare too hard at some truly disturbing plastic models of skinless cats showing their organs and at a shelf that's filled with creepy animal skulls. Either the assembled craniums are supposed to illustrate something educational, or Doctor Leonard McCoy collects animal bones for fun. 

The latter idea is too weird to contemplate for long, so Jim turns his attention to a chart explaining the horrors resulting from overfeeding cats. The damning "bad" examples all look like cute plump cats to Jim, but he keeps reading until he begins to feel vaguely guilty about doling out extra kibble (even though he's never fed a cat in his life).

At last there's a brisk knock and the door opens. "All right, what have we got here -- wait, it's you," snaps Doctor Leonard McCoy as soon as he gets a good look at Jim. 

"Hey, you remember me," Jim says. He flashes an ingratiating smile and tips his chin down to show off the baby blues. 

McCoy crosses his arms and glares. Jim is immediately so distracted by the way those upper arms bulge that he almost misses it when McCoy demands, "What the hell are you doing in my veterinary hospital?"

It's hard to answer that when Jim's dropping his eyes down to check out McCoy's body (which somehow looks even hotter underneath his professional white lab coat; this time he’s got on faded black jeans and a soft-looking charcoal grey sweater that Jim wants to rub his hands all over). 

But then Jim remembers his awesome excuse to be on the premises. "Sick cat?" Jim points to Maisie who has gone down low in her carrier, ears flat, and growling in a hair-raising rumble.

"See how unhappy she is? I think she's at death's door, so it's a total emergency. And absolutely a coincidence, you know, that you're our veterinarian in this time of need. But lucky! Because you seem super competent, and --

"Shut up." McCoy impatiently waves Jim away when he tries to help, and opens Maisie's carrier himself, thrusting his hand in to drag the cat out.

Jim has to close his eyes. Winning people over under difficult circumstances is pretty much his forte. But even he might not be able to charm this guy into having dinner with him once Maisie rakes her claws down his forearm. 

There's a moment of deadly silence. Jim grimaces and waits to hear anything, even the disgruntled _prawwlll_ he typically gets if he tries to pet Maisie when she's sunning herself on Uhura's squishy couch. 

When he can't stand it any longer, Jim warily peers over...to find Maisie head-butting McCoy's hand. Her wide fluffy tail swishes lazily in a sultry arc, and she starts to purr so loudly that he'd swear that someone installed a tiny motor in her body. She weaves closer to McCoy's arm, a full-body brush, and then turns herself around to do it in the other direction.

"This looks to me like a perfectly healthy cat," McCoy mutters to himself. He positions Maisie to check under her chin and briskly massages down her body. Maisie shifts for a second and Jim braces himself for a full-on kitty freak-out. But when McCoy holds her normally again, she immediately rubs her cheek against his knuckles.

"Wow, she really likes you, Bones," Jim says. Even though he's doing his best to amp up his charisma, he can't quite keep the note of resentment out of his voice. He'd flung at least ten cat treats into Maisie's carrier on the way here, and despite that bribery she obviously still thinks he's an asshole. It's not fair that Dr. McCoy has done nothing but ooze irritation since he came into the room, and somehow he's catnip to Maisie.

McCoy's head snaps up and he glares at Jim. "What did you just call me?"

"Uh..." Jim has to blink a few times while he rewinds. "Bones?" When he gets a huge scowl in response, he fumbles to explain, "Because you're obviously a guy who knows a hell of a lot about animal bones?" He indicates the eerie animal skulls lined up on the shelf and attempts to look impressed. "So it's...a compliment?"

McCoy -- Bones -- stares at him for a second. Then the weirdest thing happens. His grimace melts off his face. Sure, he's still not smiling, but it's the closest to friendly treatment Jim has gotten from him so far. 

"I did a specialty in veterinary osteopathy during my grad work," Bones says gruffly. 

"Actual animal bone studies? That's really awesome," Jim says. He glances at the heads atop the shelf again; they seem way less creepy if they're a display of Bones's medical expertise. 

When he looks back, Bones is watching him with an indecipherable expression. "Well, it's a very intriguing field."

Maisie looks back and forth at them, following their exchange with her uncanny yellowy eyes. But after a few moments she seems uninterested in tuning in for a conversation where she's not the main topic. She turns herself completely around once and sits down facing Bones before she licks her paw to begin cleaning her face.

"So, since you're this amazing bones expert, can I call you Bones?" 

Bones looks down at Maisie, who has stopped mid-lick to peer back at him; the tip of her pink tongue peeks out. "Let's get back to the matter at hand."

Jim grins widely. After all, Dr. McCoy didn't say Jim _couldn't_ call him Bones, so as far as Jim is concerned, the nickname sticks. Besides, anything he can do to make the vibe between them more sociable is a good thing.

"The appointment notes said your cat was very sick," Bones goes on, ignoring Jim smiling at him. "But my technician took vitals showing Maisie seems to be in excellent health."

Jim can't help shooting a betrayed look at Maisie. Figures she wouldn't cooperate and fake a little kitty cough or something. It doesn't help his mood when he notices she's gotten a few whiskers caught in her mouth during her face scrubbing: it makes her look like she's sneering at him. "Huh. That's so weird. Really?" 

"Really," Bones says sarcastically. "And guess what else? My initial examination supports this theory that there isn't anything wrong with her. So why don't you tell me, since you're the only one who seems to think your animal is ill...does it honestly look to you like this cat is having a medical emergency?"

Maisie chooses that moment to abandon her pursuit of a spit-shined face and stretches across the metal table, wriggling around to show off her fuzzy belly. When Bones rests a steady hand on her side, she bats playfully at a ring on his pinky and chirrups.

"...no?" Jim ventures after a second. Okay, so he probably should have thought this part through, how he could segue onto another track once Bones discovered there was nothing wrong with Maisie. But typically he doesn't need backup plans. He's used to guys falling for him a lot faster than this. 

Still, he prides himself on thinking on his feet, so he takes a deep breath and prepares to salvage things. "Okay, I can see how it might seem like that. But, you know, cat health is a tricky thing, right? So I had to be sure --"

"I cut into my lunch hour to see this cat," Bones interrupts.

Jim has to hold back his exhalation of relief. Sure, Bones is back to being aggravated, but this is exactly the kind of thing Jim can work with. "Wow, I'm so sorry you missed lunch! I'd love to make it up to you. Hey, maybe if you're free tonight, I could buy you dinn--

"What business do you have owning a pet?" Bones demands. His eyes flicker over Jim. "You seem like the type who can barely take care of himself, much less an animal."

"Hey," Jim objects. He tugs his tight t-shirt down in case it's riding up and pats at his carefully-styled bedhead-hair. "I can take care of plenty of things."

Bones plants his palms on the table and assesses him. "Okay. What's your game, kid?"

"I don't have a game," Jim protests. He can hear the indignation creeping into his voice, partly because this is turning out to be way more work than he imagined. Sure, he's often happy to scheme a little to get what he wants -- fake an interest in this or that, nod along to keep a dull conversation going if it means getting someone off-the-charts hot into bed at the end of the night. Still, the more Bones treats him like he's one enormous character flaw, the more he should probably think about cutting his losses and walking away. 

But there's the other thing that's getting him worked up: every time Bones acts like Jim is a huge thorn in his side, Jim wants to double down on the charm offensive until Bones changes his mind. Maybe it's because Bones is one of the most gorgeous guys Jim has met in forever. Those spectacular eyes, the line of his jaw, the strong thighs Jim wants to drop to his knees to bite... He's kind of surprised that there aren't already a gaggle of other people trying to pull a similar ploy, insinuating themselves into Bones's presence with faked vet appointments. On the other hand, there were an awful lot of people in that waiting area...

"A guy like you always has a game," Bones says darkly.

"Oh, yeah?" Jim blurts out, already on the defensive again. He does his best to clamp down on his frustration; he can't exactly launch into all the things that are starting to annoy him about Bones -- like could he have more of a resting bitch face? And who the hell does he think he is, calling Jim out on...well, his plotting? At least, he can't bring all of that up if he really wants to get an intense make-out session on top of that examination table.

Just then Maisie mews sweetly and licks Bones's hand. 

They both pause and glance down at the cat.

When Bones sighs and gives her a reassuring stroke, Jim forces himself to calm down. After all, no matter how galling it would be to strike out with Bones, it's nothing to how horrible his life would become if he headed back to Uhura's apartment without official paperwork saying Maisie has been examined up and down and all around. 

He takes a slow breath in and smiles as sincerely as he can. "We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. But um...is there any chance you could still do Maisie's check-up? I mean, she's here, you're here, and I'm here --" 

"You for one don't need to be here," Bones cuts him off. 

"But --"

"I'll do it, but you better wait in the reception area. I don't want you distracting me." When Jim pauses at the door, Bones makes a grouchy sound not unlike Maisie's ears-back warning growl and shoos him out.


	2. Chapter 2

When Jim hits the waiting area after Bones makes him leave the examination room, he veers straight to the reception desk. He has no idea how long it will take Bones to finish examining Maisie, but he might as well pass the time by chatting up Pavel. 

But Pavel looks very busy, checking in a long queue of animals and owners in between darting back and forth to a filing room, occasionally muttering "Yo moyo!" under his breath. So Jim trudges over to the long wooden benches to wait it out alone.

Various techs and vets pace through the room regularly, greeting newcomers and helping to check out animals after their appointments. Every time someone strides in, Jim looks up, trying to seem simultaneously responsible and jumpable in case Bones is the one on the scene. But the minutes keep ticking by, and Bones remains stubbornly behind closed doors.

As the afternoon rush turns into a lull with very few people or pets around, Jim gets so antsy that he contemplates playing with Bones's dog Jack. But now that it's quiet the black lab is floomped on his side on the large hunter green dog bed in the corner of the room. Jim would feel bad waking him when he looks so worn out from all his meet-and-greets. At least it's mildly entertaining to watch his paws twitch in little bursts of dream-activity. 

Jim sighs and pokes at a bit of animal hair fluff that's hanging out by his foot on the floor like some kind of bizarre tumbleweed. Though someone darts through occasionally to sweep and tidy other things, the place is shedding central. It's also mind-numbingly dull and he has nothing to distract himself. His phone's nearly dead, and the only magazines kicking around are _Modern Dog_ , _Cat Fancy_ , and _Animal Wellness_. 

"Oh no, are you still waiting for your kitty? " an elderly woman he had chatted with earlier asks in surprise after she checks out. She clucks and gives him a sympathetic smile. "You poor thing!"

Jim tries to smile back even though the two lapdogs she's pushing in some dual stroller deal have been sprayed with something heinous. "The vet is being extra thorough, I guess."

"Well, I'm sure that cat will be fine. They say that Dr. McCoy is the best in the city!"

Jim gives her a totally unenthusiastic thumbs-up and hunches his shoulders so he can go back to reading "Does Your Dog Need a Behavioral Chill Pill???" 

It's not just the complete and utter tedium that's got him miffed. It's one thing for Bones not to fall for Jim's charms, but is he making Jim cool his heels on purpose? It seems paranoid to think so, but as it gets later and later, Jim starts to wonder. 

"All right, get in here," Bones barks out at last. "Let's go!"

Though Jim is the one waiting, Bones somehow conveys the impression that Jim's been wasting his time. It's annoying as hell, but it's also effective; Jim leaps to his feet. He's not the only one either; two random people in the room also jump up when they hear Bones's order. 

"You," Bones clarifies, pointing at Jim. He turns on his heel to stomp off.

Jim rushes to catch up.

As soon as he gets back to the exam room, he finds Maisie relaxing on a fluffy towel on the examination table, her eyes little slits of kitty contentment. 

"So I guess we're all set?" Jim asks in confusion. He doesn't know how vet visits usually wrap up, but it's surprising that Bones didn't have one of the vet techs stuff Maisie back into her carry case and hand her to Jim along with the bill. 

Unless... maybe Bones has had a change of heart about Jim's dinner invite? That would definitely make Jim's long boring wait worthwhile. Sure, it would be a one-eighty from how Bones was acting earlier, but the speculative way Bones is eyeing him up and down is promising. Jim smiles encouragingly.

"Well, you were right," Bones snaps. 

Jim's grin goes wonky when his jaw drops at that unexpected pronouncement. "Wait. I was right about what?"

"About your cat's health crisis. It's good you brought her in. Urinary tract issues can be very serious. She didn't show crystals or signs of infection when we did the urinalysis, but that's not uncommon."

"Hang on!" Jim yelps. "There's a real issue?" 

"I just said so!" Bones raps his knuckles on an X-Ray displayed on a light box. "See these little white spots?"

"What does that mean? Did she eat something weird? Is she dying?" Jim asks. He's trying not to panic, but Uhura is going to tear him limb from limb if he's responsible for anything wrong with Maisie.

"No! It means she's got urolithiasis: urinary stones. Lucky for both of you the stones are small and there's no obstruction. Of course I had to give her more fluids and run additional tests. But the good news is that she won't require hospitalization or invasive treatment. You will however need to change her diet immediately. What's she eating now?"

Jim squints. "Uh. Cat food?" When Bones gives him an incredulous look, he asks, "Is that not...right?"

"You can't feed her just anything! We'll sell you a case of the food I recommend in these instances. Start her on it right away. If she turns up her nose at it, try mixing it with the old food 50/50, and keep upping the ratio gradually until she's entirely on the new stuff."

"A case," Jim repeats. "That's -- okay -- how expensive is that? It's only that I'm kind of saving up for something, and I don't have a ton of extra cash lying around..." After all, it's almost true; Jim gets calls from the International Relations program he applied to every so often asking whether or not he's coming aboard in the fall. If he was going to commit to the whole graduate thing, he probably would be saving up.

"This is your pet we're talking about here!" Bones fumes. "She needs this change in diet to keep her urine pH at healthy levels. Do you want to have to rush her to the pet emergency hospital down the line because you wanted to save a few pennies?"

"No?" Jim asks awkwardly. "I just -- thought maybe I could buy a few cans, and try it out first, if the cost is a little, um, exorbitant --"

"I'll tell the techs you want two cases," Bones says.

* * *

Jim nearly bolts when Christine hands him the bill. 

"Holy --" he blurts before he recovers.

Maisie's already atop the counter in her carrier. Luckily Bones had shunted her into it without asking, or Jim is pretty sure that he'd be a mess of claw marks. And given how all of his blood's just drained from his face at the figure on the invoice, he can't spare a drop. 

"That's of course the cost of the regular examination, along with charges for the different tests and x-rays, the fluids we administered, and of course Maisie's prescribed food," Christine says serenely. She gives a helpful little tap at the two cardboard trays of cans about to burn a hole in Jim's wallet.

"Of course," Jim says weakly as he digs out the credit card least likely to be rejected. He picked a hell of a time to leave his latest bullshit job. But to be fair, he hadn't exactly been prepared to acquire an expensive kitty cat before he landed other work. Besides, selling chalky-tasting nutrition bars at low-rent gyms had gotten old faster than the previous gig he'd had promoting truly disgusting flavored vodka at seedy clubs. 

Christine cuts her gaze to the left and then to the right before she leans in and lowers her voice. "I understand that it seems pricey. But if it helps, Dr. McCoy told me to give you an extra discount. He must have taken a shine to you." She winks, and takes the credit card out of Jim's frozen grip.

Jim boggles all the while she's processing his payment. But when he glances at the invoice again, sure enough he spots a line item with a sizeable negative number marked STAFF DSCT.

Somehow after yelling and ranting and acting like Jim was _persona non grata_ , it seems like Bones is developing a soft spot for him after all. Suddenly the day is all blue skies and sunshine again, and Jim even smiles to himself as he signs off on the charge that's going to have him eating ramen for weeks.

* * *

Jim tries his best not to sulk while Uhura is busy cooing over Maisie's triumphant return. 

The cat had wound her way out of her carrier placidly as soon as Uhura had unzipped it, as though she hadn't been bitching at Jim the whole afternoon. Now she's standing on her hind legs on Uhura's lap, delicately placing her paws at Uhura's collarbone and taking the lavish attention in stride like it's her due.

"I can't believe you were suffering and I didn't know about it, you poor beauty," Uhura croons to Maisie. Maisie squints at her and headbutts her chin in a clear bid for more pets. "Aren't you lucky that Uncle Jim used you as a ruse and has to pay to get you all better again?"

"So," Jim says. He wipes his palms on his jeans. "About that...paying thing..."

Uhura doesn't even look him in the eye as she says in a sing-song voice to her cat, "What's that, Uncle Jim?"

"Well, that food was pretty expensive. So I was thinking...what if we split the costs of those two hefty cases of stinky wet cat food --"

"You said whatever expenses that would come up, you would cover," Uhura tells him sweetly. "I'm not about to let you off the hook because there were actual expenses."

"Jeez, okay, okay. But hey, maybe since I'm spending more than I thought, maybe you and Miss Maisie over there could help the cause one more time? Let me borrow her again?"

"No freaking way." Uhura says it lovingly, but mostly because she's smiling as Maisie tries to smoosh her little face into her armpit. 

"But he's just starting to come around! I told you about that discount thing, right? How am I supposed to get him all the way to giving me a shot unless I have an animal to haul in for emergency vet visits?"

Uhura finally looks at him with a reproachful expression. "Jim, you are not allowed to use Maisie anymore. Hasn't she been through enough?" 

When Uhura scoops Maisie up and puts her gently over her shoulder, Maisie stares at Jim like he's worse than something that she hacked up onto the rug.

* * *

"But I still don't understand why you would take Duchess to the vet instead of me?" Gaila asks. "Duchess doesn't even know you." 

Over in her huge pen, Gaila's guinea pig Duchess stands on her hind legs and lets out an inquiring squeal like she's echoing the question. Or maybe she's just trying to get at the nub of cucumber that Gaila placed on a little shelf for her earlier.

Jim does his best not to shudder. Duchess is probably amazingly adorable to the kind of people who don't think it's weird to have a rodent for a pet. Jim can even see the appeal, sort of. Her tan and white coloring is pretty and the tiny _wheek! wheek! wheek!!_ sounds she makes when she's poking around her cage verge on cute. But her black beady eyes seem suspicious, and Jim really doesn't like the look of her chomp-y teeth. 

"I would take her because I'm trying to see this smoking hot veterinarian again even though he thinks I'm totally annoying," he explains. "And the only way I can get him to meet me so I can win him over is if I make another appointment at his clinic. Which I should do right away, because it's been a week since I last saw him, and I don't want him to forget how bang-able I am. But I can't show up to an appointment without an animal in tow, right? They wouldn't let me past the reception desk. So that's where good old Duchess comes in."

For the first time since Jim showed up to talk her into this scheme, Gaila looks intrigued. "So exactly how hot is this veterinarian?"

Jim shakes his head. "Gaila..."

"You said he thinks you're annoying," Gaila reminds him. "He hasn't met me yet, so I'm already ahead of you."

"Gaila, you can't horn in on my veterinarian. I've already called dibs. Get your own."

She makes an unimpressed face, so Jim adds, "And like I told you before, I'd pay for the bill." 

She brightens. "The entire bill?" 

"Um." Jim casts another glance at Duchess, who is doing some weird dance where she darts around, springs into the air a few times and then darts around some more. She looks plenty spry, so she can't be about to keel over. On the other hand, maybe guinea pigs hop like weirdoes when they're sick. "She's healthy, right?" he asks uneasily.

"Of course she's healthy! When my neighbor had to move two months ago and gave her to me, she said she'd just taken Duchess in for a check-up. Plus I feed her all the delicious hay she wants and plenty of greens for treats."

Really, Jim can't afford to be picky. He's only got so many friends who have pets, and not all of them would let Jim cart those pets around even if he's practically guaranteed to get an awesome future hook-up out of it. 

"Okay," he agrees. Duchess looks so glossy and energetic; what could she possibly have wrong with her?

* * *

"What's wrong with you?" Bones growls when he finally consents to drop in on Jim and Duchess in the examination room.

Jim stops casually striking a flattering pose (which has honestly been a little hard to maintain for the fifteen minutes he's been waiting since the tech brought Duchess back) and blinks. "Huh? I mean -- it's not me, it's Duchess who's sick. Like I told Pavel this morning, she's been listless and upset." (Jim deliberately doesn't mention how he called Pavel and sweet-talked him into the emergency appointment by letting him hear Duchess _wheek-wheek!_ ing over the phone and telling him it was like a distress call.) "So we agreed I'd better bring her in since I wasn't sure what could be wrong." He sighs and shakes his head. "If only there was a way to read a guinea pig's mind, right?"

Bones shifts his suspicious stare from Jim to Duchess. Though she had begun to emerge from her guinea pig tunnel before he stormed in, it's like someone aimed a freezing ray at her: she holds perfectly still like a fuzzy statue.

"I mean, look at her!" Jim exclaims. "That can't be good!"

"Stop talking. Pavel tells me you have only one guinea pig?"

"Well. Yeah." Jim points at Duchess like a dork. "There she is?"

"Yeah, there she is, all alone," Bones says deliberately. "Cavies are very social by nature; they're herd animals." 

"Oh? I didn't know that." Jim's genuinely not sure where this is going, but he tries to put on his best concerned face. 

"What you don't know about animals is a lot, and that's obviously the problem." 

Jim's mouth rounds in shock. Sure, he gets that Bones isn't a big fan of his...yet. But if he's anything like this with his other clients, it's amazing that he can stay in business.

By now Bones has crossed the room and has begun to lift Duchess carefully out of her carry-cage. Though at first she scrambles like she's gearing up to run, she goes still again in his hands. She's not frozen like before, though; it just seems like she's assessing this new human. 

Bones runs a gentle finger down her back, and Duchess twitches a little, sniffing. Then he briefly looks her over, checking her underside, and examining her teeth before he sets her down with great care. Duchess burrows a little at her hay, but she doesn't go far. It's almost like she's decreed that this particular enormous creature is acceptable. She even watches and preens as Bones shifts to the left.

"Wow, you really are amazing with animals," Jim murmurs. He doesn't have to remind himself to inject earnestness into the words; it's clearly the truth.

When Bones glances up, Jim nearly freezes in place himself before those hazel eyes. Whatever indignant feelings he's nursing about Bones denigrating his animal-raising abilities fade quickly. He absolutely gets how Duchess feels about Bones handling her. What Jim wouldn't give to have those hands on him instead --

"Thank you," Bones says gruffly.

It's a little startling when Bones doesn't tell him off right away. Instead of quitting while he's ahead so they can bask in the moment, though, Jim keeps on blathering. "I mean, it's awesome how they take to you. Maisie thought you were the greatest thing since tuna treats. And Duchess is a nervous nelly, but you can tell she thinks you're a guy she can trust."

Bones's face goes through a series of uncomfortable frown-y expressions before he finally says, "Well, there is a reason I'm in this business."

"I bet not all vets are amazing animal whisperers like you." Jim can't help but grin when Bones looks even more awkward. "I see why it's nuts trying to get an appointment with you -- you're in huge demand, with that and your expert osteopathy skills."

Bones levels a stare at him. "You remembered that, huh?"

Jim waves that away. "Come on, don't act so surprised, Bones. Those lined-up animal skulls you've got on the shelf in Examination Room Eight would make an impression on anyone."

"Oh good, you remembered that too," Bones says. He sounds almost curious instead of sarcastic. 

"Remembered them?" Jim puts his hand on his chest dramatically. "I had nightmares about them!" He's only half-joking; it had been the skinless plastic cat demonstration figures that had spooked him. 

"No, not that. I mean that weird nickname you came up with for me, 'Bones.' You do that for everyone you run into?"

"Give people nicknames? No, not usually out loud. But this one, I don't know; it just suits you." Jim rubs the back of his neck and smiles before he ducks his head a little. Goddamn it, but he can feel the rush of heat to his cheeks. He's usually the guy making other people blush, not the one shuffling and blinking at the ground so he won't seem like a weirdo. "Anyway, you were saying...about social animals?"

Bones keeps staring at Jim as he plants his right hand on his hip. The move shifts his lab coat away from his body, showing off his close-fitting dark blue jeans and honest-to-god western-style burgundy button up shirt. He looks like the rugged handsome cowboys Jim used to watch on TV and wish he could dress like when he was a kid (before he realized that he was more into dudes than dude ranches). "Right." Bones clears his throat. "Lots of living things need companions."

And there it is, another opening for Jim to wrangle into a hookup opportunity. "Don't I know it," he murmurs. "When you don't have someone -- well, it's hard, right?" Jim takes a cautious step closer but tries to keep his posture relaxed so Bones won't freak out on him.

Bones frowns and absently rubs his chin. "For many animals it's hard to thrive unless they have someone to share things with."

"Wow, yeah," Jim nods encouragingly. "That's what life's all about, isn't it? We can try to go it alone, but it's better when there's someone by your side."

For a moment Bones doesn't answer, surveying Jim closely. Outside in the hallway there are quiet murmurs of people passing, but to Jim it feels like they're the only two people for miles around.

"Before we go any further, you should know something," Bones tells him, his voice low.

Jim sways forward and licks his lips. "What is it?" This is definitely the precursor to something awesome. Maybe he'll even get that make-out session right on top of the examination table this time. They're so close right now: all Bones has to do is take a few steps, grab Jim by the hips, pull him in tight, and --

"You sexed your guinea pig wrong," Bones announces.

If Jim thought he was blushing earlier, it's nothing to how his cheeks are burning right now. This is absolutely not where he thought this was going. "Oh, no, no. Uh, I don't know what gave you that idea? But I'm definitely not into that kind of thing." He laughs awkwardly. "I mean, I'm open to new stuff, but that's a little much."

Bones rolls his eyes. "Good lord, man, that wasn't what I meant. Duchess is male."

"She -- he is?" He peers at Duchess and blinks. Looks to him like the exact same guinea pig as before. "Does it really matter?"

"It matters when we're talking about a guinea pig badly in need of companionship!" 

Jim actually takes a precautionary step back before he shoots another look at Duchess, who is now merrily dragging his butt along the cage floor. "Okay, can we start over, because I'm just a little confused..."

"Haven't you been listening to anything I've just told you?" McCoy rails. "You said your guinea pig is lethargic and distressed. He's presenting as healthy and the tests my tech ran are all normal. So the most likely cause of the behavior you're witnessing is that he's lonely."

"He is? Poor little dude." Granted, Jim's not big on rodents, but this news makes him want to pat poor Duchess on the head (beady eyes and chomp-y teeth and all). But he's got a feeling if he roots around in the carrier Duchess will look like Mr. Freeze visited again.

Bones ignores him to pick up a clipboard, beginning to scribbling notes furiously. "Most people have a pair of guinea pigs. I recommend you start the process of introducing another one at once. You'll need to quarantine as they become accustomed to each other, of course. I'll give you all the information. But because you don't want to have a gaggle of baby guinea pigs running around once you do house them together, you need to make certain you adopt a male guinea pig."

Jim nods along absently. Obviously he'll have to break the news to Gaila so she can start the hunt for Duchess's new pal. No doubt she'll embrace Duchess's evolving identity in the long run, but he wouldn't put it past her to look a little crestfallen when she finds out. After all, she's festooned Duchess's cage with a bunch of pretty pink accessories. 

Mainly, though, he's got to give her the news in a way that doesn't lump the cost of acquiring a new guinea pig in with Duchess's other expenses. If Gaila makes him cover that, he'll probably be eating ramen for so long that he'll risk getting scurvy. Maybe if he stops by the pet store and picks up a bunch of tiny cheap guinea pig accessories in a rainbow of different colors to make Duchess's cage friendly to all genders, Gaila won't think to make him pay for --

"Got it?" Bones demands.

Jim blinks at him. "Got what?" 

"Are you going to adopt a new male guinea pig or not?" 

"Well, _I'm_ not going to," Jim answers without thinking.

"Like hell you won't!" Bones retorts. "You're going to remedy this situation but quick! You're lucky I haven't lit into you for being thoughtless enough to let this happen in the first place." He shoves his clipboard into a holder and mutters, "Why no one bothers to research small animals before they take them home is beyond me. Just because a pet isn't named Fido or Fluffy doesn't mean it won't have its own needs!"

"Right, right," Jim says hastily. "I'll get on it right away." 

Bones eyes him suspiciously for so long that Jim nearly looks uneasily over his shoulder to see if someone is sneaking up on them both. "You're not letting your cat have access to Duchess, are you?"

Jim almost asks, "What cat?" before he catches himself. He's done his best to put Maisie and her smug furry face out of his mind this past week (even though he's still somehow using his sticky lint roller to remove her fur from his black t-shirts). Besides, it's a stretch to pretend he's a pet owner for five minutes in a row, never mind act like he's got two animals now. "No, no. The cage is on a table in Gail -- in _my_ spare room. The door closes and everything. No cat can get to him." 

"Well, all right." Bones crosses his arms and glares as though Jim just told him his favorite thing is dangling Duchess in front of Maisie's gaping maw at dinner time. "But you better work on getting Duchess a habitat that's big enough for him and his new friend."

"Habitat?" Jim echoes, bewildered.

Bones lets out a slow exasperated breath. "Now I'm afraid to ask what sort of cage you have him in."

"Oh, it's a good one," Jim rushes to assure him. He spreads his arm to indicate the proportions. "It's about this big, and this wide, and this tall, and it's open on top. Plus she, I mean he, has got a little fleece bed in there, and lots of hay and a couple of hidey-holes."

Bones rubs his chin. "That sounds about right. Still, you'll need more hay. Hang on."

When Bones stalks out of the room, Jim bends down to look Duchess in his beady eye. "Sorry, buddy. I didn't know you were lonesome. And you know Gaila didn't either, or she would have gotten you a roommate a while ago." To make amends, he digs out one of the treats Gaila gave him and warily nudges it into the carry cage. Duchess waits until Jim takes his hand away before he lets out a tiny squeal and starts nibbling it. 

When Bones comes back a moment later, he shoves a huge bag labeled _Timothy Hay_ at Jim's chest. 

"Oh, um, how much?" Jim asks uneasily as he automatically grabs the package. He had always assumed that guinea pigs were cheap pets. But based on his last bill at McCoy Animal Hospital, the cost for some fancied-up dried grass could well be enormous. 

Bones gestures dismissively. Jim nearly takes a quick step toward the door when he realizes he's not being shooed out of the room. 

"Don't worry about it," Bones growls. "I get promotional items sometimes." 

"Wow, thanks," Jim says in surprise. He grins as he sets the bag down. 

To his surprise, Bones gives him a guarded smile back. It's the first time he's seen the guy look anything but irritable or ornery, and it instantly makes his heart thud in his chest. 

"What are you, in grad school or something?" Bones asks gruffly.

"Um, possibly?" Jim says in surprise. "That is, no. I mean, not yet, but maybe this fall. Though I doubt it. I don't think it's for me. But an old friend of my dad's is trying to talk me into going, because I did really well in undergrad and he's a professor in the same field, so..." He trails off and clears his throat. "What made you guess that?"

Bones snorts. "You've got that look to you." 

When Jim pauses, trying to figure out if that's a compliment, the smile fades from Bones's face.

"Make sure you read all the material about introducing a new guinea pig."

"Definitely," Jim promises. He sees Bones glance at the clock and tenses. He hasn't tried even once to steer Bones toward the idea of grabbing a drink later or at a place with low lighting and a fuck-me vibe. He scrambles to get his mind back in charming mode, but he's too turned around and filled with thoughts of guinea pigs and habitats and graduate programs to give it his best shot. "Hey, listen," he begins desperately.

"I've got another appointment," Bones interrupts. "You can check out at the front."

Jim watches him stalk out and sighs, letting his head drop into his hands.

From Duchess's carry cage, there's a tiny inquiring squeak. It definitely says something about Jim's mixed up state that it sounds judgmental as hell. 

"I know, I know," he tells Duchess as he grabs the carry handle and gets ready to fork over more cash to the McCoy Animal Hospital.

* * *

"I can't just adopt any new guinea pig," Gaila says fretfully that night. She manages to take a dainty sip of her raspberry-colored cocktail despite its many hindering garnishes, all the while looking suitably aghast at the idea of an un-vetted buddy for Duchess.

After Jim had lugged Duchess home, Gaila had insisted they go out for drinks, even after he'd explained that he didn't have the moolah for it.

"Jim, we're not going to be buying our own drinks!" she had exclaimed.

To be fair, that prediction turns out to be true. Gaila has had a few drinks sent over by admirers, and Jim is already on his second herb-y fizz thing compliments of the bartender (though it features way too much Campari and too little Prosecco). 

When Gaila empties her glass, she reaches over and nabs Jim's Campari fizz. "So you're going to have to help me find exactly the right companion for Duchess."

"No, no way," Jim argues. "I already did my part! I paid for Duchess's bill and that's -- wait, are we still calling him Duchess?"

Gaila's eyes widen. "What would I call him instead?"

"I don't know. Duke?"

Gaila makes a horrified face. "Even if he's a he, he's still Duchess!" 

Jim holds up his hands in surrender. "I literally have no guinea pigs in this race."

"Well, you still have to help me find Duchess a new brother," Gaila insists. Before he can shut her down, she asks brightly, "So, tell me about all the progress you made with your vet!"

She nods along while he gives her the rundown. But as soon as he stops talking, she scrunches up her face. "I don't know, Jimmy. It sort of sounds like he's way too much work. And he's given you zero encouragement."

"What? No! I mean if you saw how amazingly hot he is, you'd say I should totally stick with it -- which no, you're not allowed to go there to scope him out," he adds quickly when she opens her mouth. "Honestly, I don't know how you can say there's no encouragement. We're on a nickname basis now!"

"Only because he hasn't told you to stop calling him that yet."

"Well, there have been tons of other good signs. He discounted Maisie's cat food for me, and you know that Duchess is going to enjoy that premium free hay."

She twists her mouth up like she's trying not to laugh. "But you've spent lots of money already just to be in the same room with this guy, and he still hasn't tried to get with you?"

"Gaila, come on. Today he smiled at me! He's definitely warming up, I can tell. If I can get in there, like, one more time, or maybe two? It's in the bag!"

"If you say so," she says, knocking back the last of Jim's drink. 

When she starts checking her phone, he looks at the bar to see if anyone feels like buying him another round. It's just in time to spot a decent-looking guy checking him out. He obviously spends too much time at the gym; his t-shirt looks like it's about to give up trying to hold itself together and burst into threads. But even if he's a little beefy for Jim's tastes, the confidence makes up for it; when he catches Jim's eye, he gives him a slow grin and raises his glass in greeting.

It's definitely the point of the evening where Jim would either pick someone out or move on to the next place. The guy still watching him is as good a choice as any.

But somehow instead of smiling at the man encouragingly, Jim conjures up Bones's scowling face. He closes his eyes to try and clear the image and instantly thinks of the funny half-guarded smile Bones had flashed; Jim's been grinning to himself all day every time he's remembered it. 

So when the guy cocks his head to the side, the question clear on his face, Jim gives him an apologetic shrug and prepares to pay for his next drink himself.


	3. Chapter 3

At some point in the middle of the night, after Jim crashes at Uhura's place because it's closer stumbling distance than his own apartment, Maisie decides it's a terrific idea to settle on the small of his back. 

"What do I do?" he whispers when he wakes up on the squishy couch to the sound of Uhura snort-giggling and taking a photo. "If I move, will she dig her claws into me?"

"If she does scratch you, it's only because you deserve it, leaning on my buzzer at one a.m. and waking me up."

"Why were you asleep at one a.m.?" Jim asks fearfully (mostly because Maisie has begun to knead her paws against his back and holy fuck, those little nails are like needles).

She gives him a pointed look and gestures to her business casual outfit. "Because I'm a normal person who goes to bed on time so I can get to work the next day?" 

"Okay, Ms. Responsible," Jim grumbles, trying to peer over his shoulder at Maisie to see what mayhem she might get up to next. "Just because you never have any fun doesn't mean that's normal."

She flips her hair behind her shoulder and says sweetly, "I guess no one at the bar wanted to get horizontal with you, or you wouldn't have graced me with your presence. I would have asked last night, but you couldn't say anything coherent besides, 'fucking Campari fizzes.'"

"Let me tell you, plenty of people wanted to get with this," Jim protests, shifting so he can gesture at his body. "If anything, I -- yeoOWWWW!"

Maisie lands on the floor lightly after springing off Jim with all her weight by first, yes, digging in all her claws at the same time. At least the air temporarily leaving his lungs keeps Jim from continuing to howl in pain.

"Your cat needs to go on a diet," he grumbles as he sits up and tries to comb his hair so it won't all stand up on end.

"No she doesn't, actually, and I have your report from the vet to thank for that news," Uhura says in a lofty voice. Then she actually starts to appear concerned. "So wait, no one looked good enough even after all those fizzes?"

"I don't know," he mutters. He finds his Vans underneath her coffee table and yanks the right one on. "Just didn't feel like it, I guess."

"Wow." She leans against the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest, and looks him over. "Could this be the beginning of a new, more mature James T. Kirk?" When he doesn't answer she asks curiously, "This isn't all because of that vet guy, is it?"

"Probably not. According to Gaila, I don't have a shot in hell," Jim says. He'd been feeling all puffed up about his chances with Bones last night. But with the morning, and the inevitable hangover that comes after a night drinking with Gaila, his prospects seem bleaker.

"Well, I don't know all the details. But I suppose that is possible," Uhura allows. She turns back to the mirror on the wall of her tiny living room and Jim realizes she's in the middle of doing her eye make-up; she wields her mascara wand with a deft flourish. "But I have to say, I do think it's interesting that even if you might be barking up the wrong tree --"

"Hey, a dog joke. He'd probably love that. Or at least he'd frown at me for maybe twenty seconds less than normal," Jim interrupts mournfully. He stuffs his left foot into his other sneaker.

" -- even if you aren't getting anywhere with this particular guy," she continues calmly, "I think this could be a good sign. Maybe you're getting to a phase of your life where you want something more long-term, more adult."

He laughs out loud at how ridiculous that is. When she regards him silently instead of joining in, he sighs and says, "I'm not -- he's not -- none of this is laden with significance, all right? I just think he's hot, is all."

"Okay." She picks up her shoulder bag. "I have to get to work. When you're ready to leave you can just pull the door closed. Talk later?"

He calls out, "Definitely," as she strides away.

When the click-click of Uhura's heels fades from the hallway, Maisie moseys back from the kitchen. Apparently she's been scarfing down more of her fancy new prescription food that Jim forked over all that cash for. 

"I hope at least you're satisfied," he tells her as she winds around the leg of the coffee table and gives his sneakers a sniff.

She stares at him and licks her chops a few times before she begins the prissy process of cleaning her face. 

He scrubs a hand over jaw and considers how much trouble he'll get into if he pokes around in Uhura's bathroom to use some of her upmarket facial products. 

When his phone rings, he almost misses the alert. At some point he'd put it on silent (maybe when he'd been trudging over to Uhura's feeling sorry for himself, or maybe after she'd scolded him for waking her and had gone back to bed while he downed three glasses of water in her closet of a kitchen). But as he's reaching for his wallet atop the coffee table, he happens to see the screen light up. 

"The fuck? I don't remember meeting some guy I named Animal H.," he mumbles. He squints at the notification as he debates whether to answer. It sounds like a nickname he might have assigned to a body builder, like the beefy dude at the bar, or possibly to a guy who acted like he would like it rough, or maybe --

He sits up straight so quickly that something in his back twinges. "Oh my god, Maisie, it's the Animal Hospital! It's him," he crows. "Can you believe it? He's so into me that he couldn't wait another second so he's calling me at an insane hour in the morning!"

She doesn't bother to look at him, instead sticking her back leg straight up in the air so she can groom her butthole. 

"Hey," Jim answers as soon as he's able to unlock his phone. "Can I just say I'm kind of surprised you're calling? But I'm really, really glad. There's a lot we should talk about, you know?"

"Well, I'm certainly happy to hear it," an amused woman's voice says.

Jim bites back his urge to swear. "Um, who is this?"

"This is Christine Chapel over at McCoy Animal Hospital. I was asked to call you about the potential adoption of a male guinea pig?"

"Huh?" he asks. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, and winces when the motion makes him wobbly. "Adoption of -- oh. Oh right! For Duchess!" He clears his throat. "That's great, though I don't remember asking you to call me about that."

She _hmmm_ 's in a noncommittal way. "I have a note here from Dr. McCoy asking me to contact you if we found a suitable male guinea pig."

"Really," Jim says slowly. He leans back on the couch and finds himself smiling again. Sure, this heads-up isn't the same as Bones calling himself (and therefore proving that he's super close to giving in to Jim's wiles). But obviously Bones is thinking about Jim and his needs, even if those needs involve rodents that he doesn't actually own. Gaila couldn't have been more wrong; Jim is extremely close to landing this one.

"Really," she confirms. "I have it right here in his terrible scribbly handwriting." Her voice turns brisk and professional as she adds, "You can drop by today if you're available. Bring a carry case and we'll work out whether it seems like a good match." She pauses and her voice drops a decibel or two. "You should know that we don't typically facilitate adoptions."

"Oh?" Jim asks politely. He's not exactly up on the workings of the typical veterinary clinic, so he wouldn't know.

"The doctors refer people to animal rescues, or recommend shelters instead. I thought you might be interested to know it's unusual for Dr. McCoy to reach out to someone like this."

"Christine, I am so interested, I can't even begin to tell you," he says happily. Okay, so she hasn't said she's in his corner outright. But she's not being totally subtle either, and Jim will take any boost he can get. "Any particular time I should swing by?"

"Our Thursday hours are until 7pm. But in case you have any specific questions, Dr. McCoy will be in the building after 1pm."

"Well, hey, what do you know? It just so happens that's exactly when I'm free."

She laughs. "We'll see you later this afternoon, Jim."

* * *

"Jim, hello! You are here about the guinea pig," Pavel says enthusiastically when Jim steps inside McCoy Animal Hospital.

"You've got it, Pavel," Jim tells him. He lifts the empty carry case onto the counter and smiles, patting his hands atop it in an enthusiastic drum beat. "Dr. McCoy around? I'm guessing that he'll want to do the introductions." He'd made certain to drop by in the evening, setting the stage to segue from the appointment into dinner plans or a drink. 

"Er, let me see --" Pavel clicks around and frowns at his screen. "Actually, no, he said for you to see Shelly, who will bring in the animal up for adoption. Examination Room Four is free; you may wait there."

"Hold on, seriously? Dr. McCoy isn't here?" Jim peers around to see if he spots Jack, a sure sign that Bones is in. But there's no sign of the black lab or his constantly thumping tail.

"Those are the instructions. Do you believe they are that not correct?" Pavel blinks at him. 

"No, no, it's fine," Jim mutters. "Exam room four?" He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, and how nuts is it that he's getting to know the layout of this place by heart? 

"Please," Pavel had said brightly. "I will alert Shelly you are now arrived."

"Fantastic," Jim says under his breath as he tucks the carrier under his arm and trudges off.

The worst part is that when he'd stopped by Gaila's to get the carrier, he'd also gloated that he had proof that Bones was into him. "He clearly arranged this whole thing just to see me, so you were definitely wrong," he had told her smugly while she threw handfuls of Timothy hay into the carry case. 

She had nodded, her eyes wide. "Sure sounds like it, Jimmy." 

"Gaila, you don't need to humor me. I'm in, I'm telling you."

"That's really great," she had answered with completely unconvincing cheer.

He'd grabbed the carrying case and flashed a smile at her. "This is totally going to work out for me. You'll see." 

Well, at least it'll work out for one of them. He'll get Gaila her new piggy even if he does have to eat his words.

He shoves the case onto the examination table as soon as he enters the empty room and takes a seat. There's no point in posing in anticipation of Bones bursting through the door, so he lets himself slump in the chair as he cradles his phone. He might as well catch up on old emails; that way he won't feel quite so annoyed that he rushed home from Uhura's to change into his long-sleeved light blue Henley.

There are a few messages in particular he's let slide -- from Chris, his dad's old friend, who keeps insisting they should catch up. Considering he's facing a long string of free nights, Jim might as well take him up on it, so he suggests a random date and hits send.

"Yeah, hey," he says when someone walks in, still looking down at his screen. "Guinea pig time, I guess?"

"Looks like," Bones grumbles. 

"Oh! Hey!" Jim jumps up, sending his phone clattering to the floor. "I thought you weren't around?"

Bones rolls his eyes and bends to pick the phone up. "It's been a hell of a day. But we had a cancellation, so here I am." He hands the phone back to Jim and his fingers, when they brush Jim's knuckles, are warm and steady. "Anyway. You ready to meet this new guinea pig?"

"You know I am," Jim exclaims, taking a step forward. Somehow he catches the chair with his ankle and stumbles. He manages to twist around and grapple with the chair so he doesn't actually knock it over, laughing awkwardly all the while.

"All right, just calm down. Stay still and don't break anything," Bones advises before he leaves the room.

Jim gives himself a full-body shake to get himself back in the game and prepares to smile at full wattage as soon as Bones returns.

"This is Anthony," Bones tells Jim as he re-enters and sets a container down on the examination table. "One of my clients got him for her daughter, but apparently the little girl hasn't been taking care of him consistently, so they decided to give him up. He's up to date on all his shots and in good health. You'll have to do that quarantine and gradual introduction to Duchess that we discussed last time. I know Christine gathered a set of pamphlets explaining everything, so hang on while I dig them out."

"He's actually pretty cute," Jim admits as Bones turns away. Anthony has begun to sniff the air and he scuttles forward a couple of centimeters, showing off his caramel coat. He has one little fluffed up white patch on the top of his head that makes him look like he's sporting the guinea pig version of a faux-hawk.

Bones turns, holding a sheath of papers. "I'd figured you already thought guinea pigs are cute, seeing as how you own one." 

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Super cute," Jim says absently, his eyes scanning from the wary expression on Bones's handsome face to his fitted black v-neck sweater that Jim wants to slip his hands under. "I definitely want him bad."

Bones huffs a little, and it takes a second for Jim to realize that it's almost a laugh. "Good."

"This is awesome, you helping me out with this," Jim says, smiling widely. "I'm so glad you thought of me when you got Anthony."

"Yeah." Bones clears his throat. "Well, you were looking for a male, so." His hazel eyes dart over Jim's face like he's searching something out. "All right, then," he says finally. "Good luck."

He begins to head to the door when Jim blurts out, "Listen, do you want to go out with me some time?" 

"Oh. Well." Bones frowns. 

"Come on, it'll be fun. Just a drink, or coffee," Jim quickly adds. 

Bones rubs at his chin and slowly shakes his head. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Oh." Jim nods, his own head bobbing. Sure, Bones has been dodging Jim's come-ons for a while, so maybe he should have been preparing himself for this. But it turns out that outright rejection feels way worse than evasion. "Okay, sure," he says uselessly. His eyes dart to the door, half-expecting Bones to make a break for it at this point. 

For whatever reason, Bones stands his ground, watching Jim intently.

"I won't say I'm not flattered," Bones says. "But I shouldn't."

"Shouldn't?" Jim repeats. "Oh my god, is it because you won't date clients?" A self-imposed rule like that hadn't even crossed his mind. If that's why Bones won't get with him he'll have to kick himself in the ass repeatedly. Couldn't he have schemed up some other plan that wouldn't have him wading into the murky waters of veterinarian/pet-owner relationships? 

"Not exactly," Bones says. He crosses his arms. "Look, you seem like a nice kid --"

"Would you quit calling me kid?" Jim interrupts. "I'm probably not that much younger -- hey, is that why you're turning me down?"

"Can't you keep quiet for two seconds in a row?" Bones barks. 

Jim shuts his mouth so quickly his teeth clack.

"It's not about you," Bones says impatiently. His eyes flick to Jim's and away again. "Okay, fine. I don't go around telling this to everyone. But I got out of a serious relationship not too long ago. I didn't see it coming, and it shook me up pretty badly when things fell apart. So I'm not..." He makes an impatient gesture. "Up for all of that yet."

"It doesn't have to be a big deal, though," Jim says. He can't tell if he's trying to reassure Bones or himself. But that's all he wanted with Bones from the start, right? A one night thing? 

"Well, now, that was the problem with my ex right there," Bones says. "I thought what we had was a big deal. Come to find out, that wasn't the case for Joss. Maybe he was trying to tell me that all along and I didn't pick up on the cues. You can't exactly ignore it when a guy cheats on you, though." He narrows his eyes like he's waiting for Jim's next challenge.

But all Jim can think to say is, "Oh." 

"Yeah, 'oh,'" Bones says grimly. "So, I appreciate it. And like I said, I'm flattered. You seem smart and funny and --" His eyes flit over Jim before he meets his gaze again. "But you're better off with someone else."

When Jim exhales, he can't stop himself: he glances at the door. If he was watching a scene like this unfold on television, he would have already called, "Get out, dude!" at the screen. It's a no-brainer: he should grab Anthony the guinea pig and walk right out of McCoy Animal Hospital without looking back. 

Whatever messed up situation went down with Bones's ex, it sounds like a doozy, the sort of thing that anyone who dates Bones is going to have to deal with big time. Gaila's pretty wrinkled nose and cautionary words from the night before flash into Jim's head: _It sort of sounds like he's way too much work._ And if there's anything Jim knows about himself, it's that he's not the guy who puts in work. He's the good time guy, the one who looks for fun with no strings attached, who fades out before things get complicated. 

When he looks back and sees Bones watching him, he nods. "All right. Thanks for all your help, though. With Anthony, and Maisie, and Duchess."

Bones's face shutters and he shrugs. "Just doing my job."

"Right. Got it." 

When the only sound in the room is Anthony gnawing away at his hay, Jim realizes they still need to transfer the little guy to Gaila's carry case. But at the same time that Jim begins, "So I guess, should I..." Bones says curtly, "I'll do it." Though he sounds brusque and irritated, his hands, as he reaches in and gently lifts Anthony, are careful and sure. 

"Thanks, Bones," Jim says softly.

Bones yanks the door open. "See you around, kid," he mutters before he stalks out.

* * *

When Jim shows up to hang out with his dad's old pal Chris Pike, he jogs up the apartment building stairs and reminds himself he'll be a-okay so long as he keeps the conversation away from serious stuff. 

It's been a couple of days now since he delivered Anthony to Gaila and went into solitary mode. It's pretty much been a blur of Thai take-out, marathons of cupcake competitions on his laptop, and living in the grody sweatpants he never lets himself wear outside (even if it's just to the store down the street to get grapefruit juice for vodka Greyhounds). 

But after waking up on the fourth day, throwing in a load of laundry, taking the world's longest shower, and making himself shop for actual food components, he's starting to feel semi-normal again. 

Though he had nearly emailed to cancel a couple of times, he's pretty sure he can get through tonight's thing with Chris as long as he can avoid questions about his relationships, his job prospects, and his future. Sure, it'll probably be a pain in the ass to spend the whole night dancing around those areas, especially because for some reason Chris genuinely seems to care about those topics. But hey, Jim's had plenty of practice laughing off serious questions.

Despite gearing himself up, though, all that Chris has to do is greet him with a firm hand grasp to his shoulder and a warm, "How have you been, son?" and Jim immediately starts spilling details about stuck-up cats and hay-chomping guinea pigs and Doctor Leonard McCoy.

"Hmm," Chris says when Jim finally winds down. By this point by they've made it into his kitchen, and Jim's been done with his beer for too long. Chris raises his glass of bourbon to his lips and swallows the last sip thoughtfully before he reaches down to pet his floppy-eared dog Rufus. Rufus raises his head and watches hopefully to see if Jim will take part in the scritch-fest. But when Jim frowns at his empty beer bottle instead, Rufus huffs and rests his chin on his paws.

"So that's it," Jim says. "Stupid, right? A total waste of time. No idea why I went so overboard for a guy who wasn't into me in the first place. But I'm definitely never doing anything like that again." 

When Chris stands and pulls out another beer for him, Jim takes it from him with muttered thanks. 

Once he's refilled his own glass and takes his seat, Chris leans back, scrutinizing Jim. "I don't know," he says at last. "It doesn't necessarily sound to me like that door is shut."

"Are you kidding me? He basically played the 'it's not you, it's me,' card and talked about his no-good cheating ex. Even when I tried to say we didn't have to have a serious thing, he just kept on talking like I was trying to be all..." Jim makes a face. "Relationship-py."

"Or, if you look at it another way, he confided in you when he didn't have to, and he let you know up front what you'd have to contend with if you two were to get involved. If I had to wager, I'd say he's interested. He's testing the waters, seeing if you're the type of person who might be up for a challenge."

"Well, he's definitely got the wrong guy, then." Jim can't quite muster up a grin to show he doesn't care either way, so he takes a swig of his beer instead.

Chris watches him for a moment before he shakes his head. "I don't know that he does. If you wanted to, you could take a chance and see where it leads."

"Maybe I don't want it to lead anywhere," Jim grumbles. 

"Maybe," Chris says agreeably. "Though I've got to say, seems like you've put in a whole lot of work to keep seeing the man if you're not interested in something more." 

"Yeah, well, you're forgetting two things. One, that's not what I've ever been about, and two, he probably can't stand me in the first place so what would the point even be if I was into that." Jim scrapes away at the label on his beer bottle, scrunching it up where it's begun to peel away from the glass. When most of it has been torn into a pile of damp tatters, he glances down at Rufus, ready for another diversion. But Rufus has already given up on them both and fallen asleep. His chest rises and falls with regular breaths even as his closed eyes twitch every so often. "Let's change the subject."

"Okay," Chris says amiably. "What about grad school?"

"Oh my god," Jim says under his breath. "What about it?" 

"Have you given any more thought to starting the PhD program you applied to? I ran into the department head recently, and we got to talking about the future of the field. He said that they'd be willing to extend another offer if they can sweeten the deal for you."

Jim shakes his head slowly. "That was a fluke, when I got accepted; they're not really interested in me. He probably was just buttering you up so you'd give series of talks on campus." 

"Whether you like it or not, Jim, he is genuinely interested. We both agreed you have a great deal of promise."

"How about I be the judge of whether I have promise or not, okay?" Jim hunches his shoulders and takes another swig of his beer.

Chris draws his thumb back and forth over the rim of his glass several times. "The thing is, Jim," he says at last, "I don't know if you truly are the best judge of that."

Jim lets out an aggravated sigh. Fine, so he'd been the one to bring up Bones, like the idiot that he is. But now Chris probably won't let go of the grad school thing for the rest of the night. All they have to tackle now is Jim's his current shitty job -- or wait, lack of shitty job, since he hasn't officially started a new one yet -- and they'll have ticked every single subject he planned to sidestep. "What a fun night this is turning out to be, huh? Hey, I've got an idea. Can't we just have a couple of drinks and talk bullshit instead of raking me over the coals?"

When Chris opens his mouth, Jim doesn't give him the chance to answer. "No, you know what? You might as well keep going; I already feel like crap anyway. Let's get it all out on the table, every single way I'm a disappointment. And why stop with grad school? I say we list all the stupid moves I made with Bones, because I bet you've got some insight into that. Oh, and do you want to tackle how I quit my last dumb job and haven't bothered finding another one yet?" 

Chris's brow furrows slightly, but somehow he still looks relatively unperturbed even though Jim feels ready to jump out of his skin. "I don't think you're going to like it, but if you really want to know what I think --"

"Lay it on me," Jim bites out.

"I'd say it's all part and parcel of the same thing."

"Of course it is," Jim says, spreading his hands out expansively. "Why don't you go ahead and enlighten me about what that would be?"

"That you're moving as fast as you can these days, from job to job, from person to person. But for all of your rushing around, you're stuck. If you could keep still for a moment, you might find you're ready to stop trying to avoid everything and take some real risks."

"Sure, okay." Jim tips the bottle up to take a long pull of beer. 

Chris lets the silence stretch out and nudges Rufus with his foot. Rufus's paws flick out in a rapid little motion, like he's dreaming about running even though he's not moving.

"So let's say you're right, just for the sake of argument," Jim says sarcastically. "What am I supposed to do next? Bust back into McCoy Animal Hospital and declare my undying love to Bones when he shot me down like two seconds ago?"

Chris smiles. "I don't know, son. But it seems a shame to throw the whole thing over when you could be much closer to figuring out what you really want than you think."

"Maybe." Jim presses his lips together but nods his head. "Okay. Maybe."

On the floor, Rufus sighs and murmurs, _Woh woh woh hrrhmmm,_ in his sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

"You also have a dog?" Pavel asks doubtfully.

"Yes, I have a dog right here -- see?" Jim gestures to Rufus, who is absolutely thrilled to be at the animal hospital. He keeps sniffing after other passing animals with keen interest, but despite a little excitable prancing, he mostly stays at Jim's side. 

"And you are here because there is another emergency," Pavel guesses.

"Well. Maybe not an emergency," Jim allows. He glances over to the side to see if Jack is there, and sure enough, the black lab has a big doggy smile on his face while he leans contentedly against an older gentleman petting him. "But I've gotten such good care here for Maisie and Duchess. So today I looked at Rufus and thought, you know what buddy? There's a checkup out there at McCoy Animal Hospital with your name on it. And I'm not totally sure if Dr. McCoy is here, but um, I kind of had a feeling that maybe he would be? So if we could see him, you know, that would be fantastic."

Pavel's mouth twists slightly. Jim keeps his smile pasted on as he wonders for a few seconds if he's finally hit Pavel's hard no. 

But then Pavel begins typing at his keyboard. "Well, actually, this day is not very busy. So let me see what I can do for you, Jim. Wait and someone will alert you."

"Pavel, you are the actual best," Jim says sincerely before he leads Rufus over to the benches to wait.

Along with the handful of clients who smile at Rufus and ask about him, a few staff members pause as they pass by to exclaim over the dog and pet him. Rufus sits obediently next to Jim but wags his stumpy tail so hard that his whole butt jerks back and forth. 

While he waits for his turn, Jim keeps his hand tight on Rufus's leash and tries to look calm and collected. So, fine, it's a gamble, coming back for one last shot at cracking Leonard McCoy. But maybe if Jim can show Bones he's not going to run away at the first sign of a snag, they can actually try out some kind of relationship thing together and see how it goes.

And if taking a risk with Bones means getting real about other things in his life, like Chris seems to think -- well, fuck it, Jim will see how that goes too. 

"Rufus Kirk," one of the techs calls out. 

"Okay, buddy, I'm counting on you. Third pet's the charm, right?" Jim whispers as Rufus excitedly jogs alongside him to the examination rooms.

* * *

After the tech brings Rufus back in from the cursory first round of tests and weighing, the dog acts overjoyed to find Jim waiting for him. When his nails scratch on the floor in his excitement to scramble closer, Jim crouches down and says, "Hey, buddy; hey, pal," in a low voice to calm him. 

"You know, I'm starting to think we should create a loyalty punch card just for you," Bones says from the doorway. 

Jim's heart stutters a little when he sees Bones leaning casually against the door frame, his long legs crossed at the ankle and his arms folded across his chest. It's nuts how Bones gets better looking every single time Jim sees him. Even today, in an outfit Jim would normally put on the _DON'T_ list (a dark blue denim shirt over dark blue denim jeans; did he even look in the mirror or did he have to do laundry?) he still looks amazing.

"I wouldn't say no," Jim offers with a grin as he stands up slowly. "Loyalty should have its rewards, right?"

Bones shakes his head. But as he ambles into the room, he looks more relaxed than Jim has seen him yet. "So, what happened? You woke up this morning, suddenly decided that you wanted a check-up for your dog, and figured that you should get one without an appointment?"

"Um." Jim glances at Rufus to see if he might somehow to field this one. "No?" he says finally when the dog only pants lightly, his eyes flitting to Bones and back to Jim again. "Well, yes," he concedes. "I had the day off, we took a long walk, and lo and behold we had ended up in the neighborhood. So I thought --"

"Okay, okay. Let's see how this latest member of your menagerie is doing," Bones interrupts. He easily lifts Rufus to set him atop the examination table and spends a few moments doing a swift massage over his coat. "Looks good so far. No concerns I can detect this way, and it doesn't sound like you had any specific worries. We're waiting on a few test results, but I doubt anything big will pop up."

"Great! No rush."

Bones arches an eyebrow. "Nowhere else to be?"

"Nope," Jim says. He takes a step closer. "I can wait as long as you need me to."

For a moment Bones says nothing. Then he cradles Rufus's face his hands, fingers rubbing gently along the dog's jawline. Rufus lets his jaw drop in the widest doggy grin Jim's ever seen from him, and glances back to see if Jim is catching that this is how it's supposed to be done. 

"I'm surprised to see you here again," Bones says finally. "After what we talked about last time."

Jim takes a deep breath. "Well, I think you're an awesome vet, and I want Rufus to get the best care. So even if you're not into me, I wasn't going to disappear."

"Hmmm." Bones keeps his gaze on Rufus, lifting each of his paws in turn to examine them. "Well. I might not have handled all of that as best I could have."

"Hey, no; that's not true," Jim protests. "You were fine: you let me down easy and everything." He eases in closer and runs his palm over Rufus's back. The dog flashes his doggy grin at Jim and Bones in turn, clearly in heaven with this double petting action. 

Bones shrugs and rests a hand on Rufus's flank, not far from Jim's slowly stroking hand. "Still, you probably didn't need to hear about all that. I could have kept things simpler."

"I don't mind listening," Jim says. 

"As it turns out, some of my associates seem to think that I like getting in my own way," Bones continues.

Jim's heart speeds up. "Oh yeah?" He mentally bats away the image of Christine and Pavel giving Bones a stern talking-to about his love life. 

"I mean, it's only coffee. It wouldn't have to be..." Bones trails off, his brows knit so closely together that if Jim didn't get the strong sense that it's an awkwardness thing, he'd swear Bones was irritated. 

"Right, we could start off slow. And I wouldn't even be too annoying, I promise." 

"Oh, you're all right," Bones says.

Jim laughs. "Wow, that's practically a love confession coming from you." When Bones scowls, he holds up his hands in surrender. "No, no, I'm not pushing, I just -- yeah. Coffee. Let's make that happen."

Before Bones can reply, there's a brisk knock at the door.

Pavel eases the door open and pokes his head in. "Dr. McCoy, I am very sorry to disturb you, but they need you on an emergency consult: a miniature schnauzer in Room Five."

"And of course no one else can do it?" Bones immediately starts stalking to the door. But he halts at the threshold and turns to point at Jim. "Don't go anywhere."

"Is it weird that I like it when he orders me around?" Jim asks Pavel as soon as Bones is out of sight.

Pavel's cheeks turn pink, and though he looks like he's about to laugh, he blusters, "I should, that is, Dr. McCoy--" before he flees, leaving the door open.

Jim hops up on the examination table and puts an arm around Rufus, who immediately leans against him and looks up into his face. "Buddy, I should have brought you right from the start."

Rufus yawns and makes an _Oh wow wow woo_ , sound.

"Well, maybe you're right. It probably wouldn't have worked the first time, even with such a fine specimen as yourself. But let me tell you, the voodoo that you do? A plus, for real. I am going to buy you the most enormous chew stick thingy ever."

"Well, that's a distinctive looking dog," someone comments. 

Jim looks up to find one of the vets he hasn't met yet pausing at the doorway. The man smiles, and if Jim wasn't so determined to see how things play out with Bones, he'd be prying about Gorgeous Vet's plans later. He's got arresting eyes, the deep purple shirt he's wearing looks fantastic on his dark skin, and his quietly self-assured air is definitely intriguing.

At least if Gaila insists on getting a veterinarian of her own, Jim will have the perfect candidate. 

"What's his name?" the vet asks curiously.

"This is Rufus." Rufus immediately perks up and slobbers kisses on Jim's nose. He laughs and ruffles Rufus's ears before he adds, "And I'm Jim." 

The man nods in reply, though he's more focused on Rufus than Jim. "I should have introduced myself; I'm Dr. M'Benga. He's quite a handsome animal. A Field Spaniel mix?"

"Possibly?" Rufus's floppy ears do make him look Spaniel-ish, though Jim's no expert. 

Dr. M'Benga tilts his head in consideration. "Would you mind if I took a quick photograph of Rufus? We have a camera in the testing room."

"Oh, sure. But I think Dr. McCoy will probably be back soon."

"It won't take long."

There's really no other reason to refuse, so Jim tells Rufus, "Now, don't let your modeling debut go to your head." Rufus's expressive eyebrows go through a complicated twitching sequence that seems to indicate he'll do his best to stay humble. 

Jim hops up so he can lifts Rufus to the floor and hand his leash over. When Rufus casts a look back at him from the threshold, Jim says, "Go on, now," encouragingly. 

Once he's alone, he debates whether he should stay standing but decides he might as well sit. Though Rufus will probably be back with Dr. M'Benga momentarily, Bones's consult might go on for a little while. 

It turns out it's good that he does grab a seat, because the wait stretches on. He keeps debating whether to dig out his phone. It seems a little silly when he's probably not going to be waiting that much longer. But though occasionally a door opens or closes, there's no sign of Rufus and Dr. M'Benga or Bones. 

Finally Jim spots Christine hurrying by and calls out, "Hey there! Um, I've been waiting for a while. Do you know if --"

She shakes her head. "Sorry, it's gotten a bit hectic. But I'm sure someone will be along any minute to help you." 

"Okay," he says slowly as she rushes away. Maybe the emergency consult got complicated. He shrugs and pulls out his phone after all. 

The sound of the door closing a few minutes later makes him jump; he puts his hand over his heart before he sees that it's just Bones.

"Wow, way to make a dramatic entrance," he says with a grin. 

"So you had a game all along then, didn't you?" Bones demands.

Jim stills where he sits before he laughs uncomfortably. "Wait...what?"

"That is not your dog," Bones says sharply. He looks utterly furious.

Jim gets to his feet. "Okay, let's back up for a second --"

"Don't play dumb with me," Bones cuts him off. "It's a good thing M'Benga recognized that dog from his last veterinary practice. I don't know why the hell you would steal an animal but --"

"No, hang on; you've got it all wrong. I didn't steal him." 

"Oh yeah? How do you explain his chip info? M'Benga ran the data, and it confirms the name of his owner -- who is one hundred percent not you, by the way. And don't go claiming that the chip is out of date, because the information was updated last week."

"Look, I know this is probably going to sound weird," Jim says. "But his owner is a friend of mine and I -- I borrowed him."

"Borrowed him," Bones repeats. "Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? You better come clean with me. How did you steal Rufus?"

"I swear to you I did not dog-nap Rufus," Jim insists. He holds out his phone and tries to ignore that his hand is shaking. "Chris Pike, right in my contacts. That matches the owner's name you saw, right? You can call and verify he let me borrow his dog."

Bones snatches the phone out of Jim's hands and starts to scroll. 

He must finally reach Chris's entry, because he stops and looks up at Jim with narrowed eyes. "Even if I believe that you know this man -- and that's assuming you don't have some racket where someone else answers, pretending to be the owner -- why the hell would you try to pass Rufus off as your dog?" 

"Uh." Jim bites the inside of his cheek and tries to think fast. "You know how some people are afraid of the dentist? Well, other people don't like going to the vet. So, if you think of it that way, it's kind of a service --"

"Tell me the truth," Bones nearly explodes. "Were any of those animals yours?" 

Jim swallows. "Are we talking legally, or --"

"Just answer the damn question." 

"Look, when I met you, I liked you right away. But I didn't make the best first impression on you and I didn't know how to get you to give me another chance. So when I followed you and saw you worked here, I figured if I could get an appointment or maybe two... you might change your mind about me."

Bones scoffs. "Unbelievable. So all this nonsense was because you wanted to add one more guy to your tally?"

"No, that's not --" Jim stops. "Not how it is anymore," he finishes.

"You're that much of a player that you couldn't handle getting turned down once?" Bones rails. He shakes Jim's phone at him. "Don't think I didn't notice how many contacts you've got in this thing with names like 'Body Shots Guy' and ''Kinky Men's Room Redhead' and 'Dirty Talking Huge' --"

"That's none of your business," Jim puts in hotly; fuck, he can feel his cheeks burning red.

"You're absolutely right that it's not." Bones thrusts the phone at him and Jim reflexively grabs it. "And it'll never be my business. Not only we are not going to have whatever tawdry hook-up you've been hoping for, but this is going to be the very last time you set foot in in here."

"Would you let me explain before you kick me out?" Jim reaches out to touch Bones's arm, but Bones glares and shifts away. "Yes, fine, I mostly only thought about how you were hot at the start -- which, by the way, maybe take as a compliment?"

"You're not helping your case any," Bones warns. 

"But that's not all that I'm thinking any longer!" Jim exclaims. "Maybe it seems nuts, because I only get to see you when I borrow my friends' pets and finagle appointments with you, but I really like hanging out with you! You're obviously amazing with animals, you're hilarious when you let yourself relax for a second, and you've got this steady calm thing underneath the fed-up act that really gets to me for some reason. It's possible this was the stupidest idea ever, trying to hang out with you this way, but now all I want is to get to know you more. Is that so awful?"

Bones frowns, staring at some point past Jim's head. 

"Hey," Jim says quietly, trying to catch his focus. "In the end, I wouldn't have kept coming back if I only wanted a one-time thing." He laughs lightly. "I mean, check out my tab here. All the cash I've laid out to cover my friends' vet bills has to prove I've got a real stake in this."

"You're saying that you're serious about getting to know me," Bones says slowly, "and that I should take how committed you were to this entire ruse as evidence to trust you?" 

"Right, exactly," Jim says with some relief. 

"You've got a lot of nerve, you know that? If you had an ounce of heart, you would have let all this go after the last time we spoke. I told you I'd been lied to, and gave you a glimpse into what that meant for me. And you still thought it would be a fantastic plan to keep deceiving me?"

"Wait, no, come on," Jim says, his voice choking. "Can't you give me another chance? I swear I wasn't trying to hurt you. Besides, you've got to believe me, I'm not that same guy who only wanted to get in your pants at the start."

"Oh, sure, because you've done a total reversal of your personality in a few weeks, all in between stealing people's cats and rodents," Bones says sarcastically. "Do you know how many times I've heard people claim they've grown and changed?" Before Jim can reply, Bones snaps, "Let me let you in on a little secret. People don't change! You're the same shallow man you were when I met you, and whatever you think you're owed because you spent some cash, you're not getting what you want, not this time."

When Bones turns to leave with a look of disgust on his face, Jim has to swallow against the bile rising in his throat. But when he remembers Chris's dog is still in a backroom somewhere he blurts out, "Rufus --"

"Will stay here until his real owner comes to claim him," Bones says flatly. 

Bones doesn't slam the door when he leaves the room. But when it shuts, the quiet click of the latch makes Jim's heart catch in his chest as though he had.

* * *

Jim only realizes he's been neglecting his caramel iced latte when the water collecting on the outside of the plastic cup starts to seep into his linen shorts. When he looks down, there's a pool of condensation staining the wooden slats of the park bench he's slumped on. He swears under his breath and shakes the cup out at the pathway in front of him so he can at least get rid of the excess moisture. 

"Hey, watch it," a passing runner calls out when some of the droplets spray his way. But from the way the guy slows his pace to check Jim out, he's not actually that upset.

"Sorry," Jim mutters. He doesn't bother to smile before he looks away, instead making a show of using a fistful of crumpled napkins to blot at his clothes and the damp bench. 

"So!" Gaila says brightly. "Grad school!" She takes a big sip of her frozen coffee and watches him expectantly through her heart-shaped sunglasses. 

"Looks like it," Jim says. "It's not until a few more weeks, so." He shreds another layer of his flaky croissant and drops it back into the bag next to him instead of eating it. "Plenty of time to back out."

"Oh, no; don't say that, Jimmy. I thought that you wanted to go?"

He drags his hand over his face, grimacing at his stubble that's crossed the line from fashionable scruff to patchy beard. "I'll try it. I promised Chris I would, after I brought him expensive bourbon to apologize for abandoning his dog."

"That part wasn't your fault! They were so mean to make you leave Rufus there."

He shrugs one shoulder. "I kind of get it. I just wish it hadn't gone down that way. Anyway, Chris was so pleased that I agreed to enroll that he got all proud and slapped me on the back and made me open the bourbon with him. Then he got two sheets to the wind and called Professor Lloyd to repeat my bullshit vow that I'll even finish their program a year early. So, hooray, everyone's expecting that now."

"Challenges are good though, right? Look at it this way; it'll definitely take your mind off that hot vet with the steady hands who stomped on your heart! Um, whoops?" she finishes weakly when Jim winces. "I forgot we weren't going to mention him specifically."

"Yeah, a month later is still too soon. If we could just steer clear for a while longer, that would be swell."

"No problem. I'll change the topic." She pauses and leans in to ask delicately, "So, is Chris seeing anyone? Because all that daddy stuff you're describing is right up my alley --"

"Gaila, no," Jim sputters. "That's off limits! How can you bring stuff like that up right now? Look at me, I'm still all distraught!"

She gives his upper arm a quick little reassuring squeeze (and then squeezes it a second time because Gaila is nothing if not a fan of biceps). "All right, all right. But honestly, you don't seem that distraught. You're not at home hiding under your comforter."

"I was for the first couple of days," Jim admits. "Then Uhura showed up with her spare key and told me I'd already cashed in my depressive slump chip the first time Bones turned me down, so I had to get it together."

"Hey," someone calls out. 

They look up to see the runner from earlier standing in front of them. He gives Gaila a what's-up nod and grins at Jim. "Hey there. By any chance did your dog run away?"

"Nope," Gaila says cheerfully. "We don't have a dog."

"Oh, okay; no big, then." He takes another step closer to Jim and says in a wheedling voice, "So, listen --"

"Wait, what dog are you talking about?" Jim interrupts.

The guy shrugs. "Just some dog that probably got away from its owner. I saw it lying behind the bushes about a quarter mile up the path." He makes a face and adds, "It looked kind of grody; probably got into some mud or had a fight. I thought I'd better make sure it wasn't yours." He clears his throat and starts again, "So, listen, I'm about finished with my run --"

"Maybe the dog needs help," Jim cuts in. "Did you check on it?"

"Poor doggy," Gaila says, looking distressed. 

"Hey, no worries if it's not yours; I'm sure Animal Control will take care of the problem." The guy smiles and repeats, a little less patiently this time, "So, _listen_ , I'm about finished with my run, and I usually get a kale smoothie right after if you're --"

"I'm definitely not interested," Jim tells him. 

"Wow, okay." He huffs and shakes his head. "I was just being friendly. You don't have to be such an asshole." He shoots Jim a disgusted look and jogs off in the opposite direction.

"Let's go check out that dog," Jim tells Gaila, already standing so he can chuck his iced latte in a nearby bin.

* * *

When they arrive at a cluster of bushes (that Jim's map app assures him is about a quarter of a mile away from the bench), at first there's no sign of any animal other than a chittering squirrel that quickly darts away.

"Maybe its owner did come back for that dog," Jim mutters.

"Wait. Did you hear that?" Gaila asks.

Jim listens, and sure enough, there's a faint whine coming from behind the bushes. They hurry over, Jim automatically reaching to hold Gaila's arm so she won't slip on the damp grass in her wedge sandals. 

Finally they spot a young dog, curled up and crammed under a bush like he dragged himself there. He has a smear of dried blood on his nose and mud matting what looks like a golden coat. When he sees them he cowers back but also he lets out a plaintive moan. 

"Oh no!" Gaila exclaims. "Careful, Jimmy; he might bite you if he's hurt," she adds when he starts to crouch down and ease closer.

"Hey pal, hey bud," Jim croons as he holds out his hand for the puppy to sniff. 

The dog raises his little head and sniffs weakly. He only pauses a second before his tongue flicks out to wet Jim's hand. 

"There we go," Jim tells him. "That's so nice of you." The dog licks his hand again and presses against Jim's palm with a grunt. "See? We're friends already."

The puppy's dark eyes flit over Jim's face and he whines again.

"Should we start asking people if this is their dog?" Gaila asks.  
s  
Jim cautiously reaches out to stroke the dog's head and neck. "He's not wearing tags or a collar. I think we should get him help right away and worry about whether he has an owner later."

"Is there a 911 for baby animals?" Gaila asks anxiously. 

"Okay, buddy, let's get you some help," Jim murmurs. "Can you stand up? Up?"

The young dog clearly understands there's some sort of direction he should follow. But when he tries to get to his feet he wobbles and half-collapses. 

"I think his leg's hurt," Jim mutters. He yanks off his hoodie, absently tugging down his long-sleeved t-shirt before he carefully begins to lift the dog to cradle him in the soft fabric. 

The puppy lets out a pained yelp and Gaila echoes it with a muffled whimper. 

"Shhh, little guy; we're going to get you all better," Jim says as calmly as he can. 

"What are we going to do?" Gaila asks anxiously.

Jim hesitates and glances down at the puppy as he breathes out shallowly and closes his eyes. "We need to get him the best help there is. So we're going straight to McCoy Animal Hospital."


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you sure you want to take the puppy to McCoy Animal Hospital?" Gaila asks as she hurries along to keep up. "I thought you were banned! Or at least that you wouldn't want to show up there again after that Bones guy was so mean. Aren't there other vets we can try?"

"This little guy is definitely going to see Bones," Jim says. "He'll know what to do right away." He gives her a reassuring grin and tries to ignore his clenching stomach. He can't tell whether he's more nervous for the hurt puppy in his arms or for himself when Bones will no doubt lay into him for ignoring his order. He's doing his best to project outward serenity, though, murmuring wordlessly to the dog whenever he makes a pained noise. 

"But Jim," Gaila says louder. 

"Gaila, he's the only one I want to see! Now let's hurry up, because we're only a couple of yards away."

Before he can move forward she sprints in front of him and plants herself on the sidewalk to block his path. "Would you listen for one second? Even if Mr. Grumpy Vet is awesome, he's not going to be there. I checked the website on my phone, and McCoy Animal Hospital is closed on Sundays." 

Jim almost stumbles, but luckily he remembers the bundle in his arms and holds the puppy steady. "They can't be closed," he declares and quickens his pace.

"If they're closed, they're closed," she calls in exasperation. "Let's find someplace else!"

But by this time Jim can see the front of the building, so he puts on another burst of speed and reaches the door seconds later. 

"Fuck," he says when he sees the darkened windows.

"See?" Gaila says when she catches up. "We've got to call around and find an emergency option. And we should do it quickly, because I have to head into work in an hour." 

He finally looks at her frizzed out curls and her reddened cheeks and the bits of mud flecked on her pretty skirt from their scramble in the park. "Hey, no. I'm sorry for dragging you into this. You can take off for your job and I'll handle everything from here."

"I can try calling in," she offers. She lays her hand gently on the puppy's head. "I don't want to abandon you."

"You aren't, I promise. Now go ahead; we don't want you to be late."

She looks torn as she gives the puppy a caress. "Text me once you figure out more, and let me know how I can help?"

"Absolutely," he reassures her, waving her back in the direction they came from.

"Good luck!" she calls as she leaves in a flurry of bouncing red curls.

"Okay, don't worry because Auntie Gaila has to leave," Jim says to the puppy. "I promise I'll take care of everything."

He takes a fortifying breath and glances around, looking for a spot where he can sit and juggle his phone while keeping the puppy stable. He's about to head over to a small cement wall when a familiar black Labrador turns the corner, tongue lolling as he prances toward Jim.

"Jack," he says in surprise and then, "Bones!" more urgently when he sees Bones on the other end of the leash.

"I should have guessed you wouldn't be able to take an enormous hint and keep away," Bones starts to complain. Then he zeroes in on the bundle in Jim's arms and frowns. "What's this?"

"This little dog, I found him in the park just a little while ago," Jim says in a rush. "I don't know if he ran away from his house, or someone abandoned him. But he's hurt badly -- one of his legs, maybe -- and the first thing I could think to do was bring him to you."

For a moment Bones stands still, eyeing Jim suspiciously. But when Jack (who is beginning to strain on his leash) lets out a low whine, Bones sighs. "Okay," he says. "I'm going to assume that even you wouldn't sink so low as to grab some injured animal just so you could --"

"I only want to help this little guy, I swear," Jim breaks in.

"And of course no other vet can do it."

Jim would spread his arms in supplication if he wasn't supporting the dog. "Who else would I go to? You're the best vet I know."

"I'm the only vet you know," Bones grumbles, but he finally moves to the door and unlocks it, waving Jim and the puppy in ahead of him and Jack.

"Jack, you stay out here," he says when Jack tries to keep pace alongside them. 

Jack lets out an unhappy rumble. His expressive eyes dart anxiously between the puppy and Bones. 

"Honestly," Bones mutters. But he rests his hand on his dog's head and says gently, "You're worried; I know. But we're going to take care of him. So you wait out here, and I'll come get you soon."

With a heaving doggy sigh, Jack reluctantly goes over to his accustomed bed and circles atop it a few times before settling down.

"This way," Bones says, snapping on lights while he strides ahead. 

As soon as they arrive at an examination room he peels off his Georgia Bulldogs sweatshirt and heads to the sink to scrub his hands. "Where did you say you found this dog?"

"Hiding under some bushes in the park. He cowered when I went near him, but I think he figured out I wanted to help." 

"Hmm." Bones pulls on some gloves and takes the dog from Jim. He doesn't comment on Jim's hoodie still swaddling the puppy but instead deftly rearranges it to act as a cushion on the examination table.

His gaze sweeps over the dog before he begins to manipulate his limbs with care, pressing here and there and feeling along his joints. The puppy lets out a pained yelp, but he doesn't flinch away, instead watching Bones attentively with his big dark eyes.

"Have you seen him walk or sit upright?" Bones murmurs, his gaze never moving from his patient. 

"He couldn't stand up when I found him." Jim hovers anxiously, making himself resist the urge to reach out to comfort the dog. "Maybe I shouldn't have moved him? I tried not to jostle him too much."

Bones shakes his head. "If an owner had a dog in this condition at home, I'd generally say let's not move him and wait eight hours to see if there's improvement. But he's here now and clearly in distress, so we might as well get to the root of it." He glances up at Jim. "That is, we'll proceed if you're going to cover the costs for this animal. With no identification, we can't count on a possibly non-existent owner to come forward to pay for whatever tests and procedures he might need."

Jim edges a little closer and runs his fingertips over the puppy's soft fuzzy ears. He's really been trying to leave his bank account alone. The kind of fly-by-night jobs he's held have never let him put much away, and he's not the kind of guy who gives up fun stuff to scrimp and save. Sure, lately he's priding himself on avoiding non-essential expenses, and the temporary office job that Uhura helped him get will start to beef up his balance. Even with those earnings, though, and the stipend he'll start getting in the fall, it's definitely for the best if he squirrels away whatever he can before the school year begins. 

But even as his brain scrolls through all the expenses he's going to have to cover through the next two semesters, Jim cradles the puppy's warm head. The puppy's long eyelashes flutter before he closes his eyes.

"Okay. Yeah." Jim takes a deep breath and mentally kisses his remaining bank balance goodbye. "Whatever he needs, go ahead. I'll foot the bill."

Bones nods slowly. "All right. I think we're looking at tissue damage rather than a break or fissure, so I'm going to contact one of our vet techs to come in and assist me in performing an MRI. But we'll also check for infections and other problems causing pain and inflammation."

"Okay. You probably want me to..." Jim jerks a thumb over his shoulder toward the door.

Bones eyes him. "You can stay put while we wait. That is, if you don't have anywhere else you want to be."

"I'll stay," Jim says quietly. 

Bones grabs the chair that's pushed against the wall, and for a moment Jim thinks he's going to drag it with him, make Jim have to stand up if he's going to hang around. But Bones repositions it next to the examination table and mutters, "I'll be back when I've got another set of hands." 

"Hey, buddy," Jim says softly as he slips into the chair and holds out his hand for the puppy to sniff again. "You're going to be fine now, just like I told you. He's a good one, right?"

The puppy makes no sound, but he licks Jim's fingers weakly as though he agrees.

* * *

It takes about twenty minutes for Bones to return.

By now Jim is leaning most of his upper body on the exam table, letting the puppy nose around at his head. The dog keeps pressing his nose to Jim's temples and even nibbles at his hair a little. Jim hopes to hell that's comforting to him, but he also keeps up a steady stream of nonsense in a low even voice about how everything is going to be all right.

At the sound of the door opening, Jim and the puppy both raise their heads.

"Get out of the way," Bones announces.

"Why don't you step out to the reception area, Mr. Kirk?" Christine suggests delicately from behind Bones. "Or if you need to leave, we can phone you when we have more news."

"I'll hang out, if that's okay." Jim stands and shakes himself out a little. "Okay, Sammy, you be good," he says to the dog.

"Sammy?" Bones asks. He's in the middle of grabbing something from a drawer, but he pauses to stare at Jim. 

"Oh. I just --" Jim looks at the puppy, who is now craning his little head to see where Jim is headed. He hadn't really noticed that he'd given the dog a name until he said it aloud. "Well, I was giving him a pep talk. I had to start calling him something," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

For a moment when Bones keeps his eyes trained on him, Jim thinks he's about to get another lecture. But in the end Bones merely says, "Sammy it is, then."

"We'll get you when we have any updates," Christine says kindly, and Jim takes the hint and closes the door behind him.

* * *

As soon as Jim arrives in the reception area, he stops short. He's never been here when there weren't other people waiting with their pets, with Pavel manning the phones and various techs bustling around. Without the usual crowd, the room feels empty and lonely and weird. 

He should grab his phone to pass the time or even page through the crappy animal magazines to distract himself. But instead he sits down heavily, covering his face with one hand. His eyes keep stinging, maybe because it feels like he's been awake forever. 

It's not until that he feels a wet nose at his knee that he looks down and remembers that he's not totally alone. Jack is here.

"Hey," Jim says to the black lab watching him. 

Jack rests his paw on Jim's thigh and then returns it to the floor, observing Jim closely all the while. 

"You worried about Sammy? Me too." Jim runs his fingers through Jack's short hair and massages his head. After a moment Jack leans into him, laying his muzzle on Jim's leg, his expressive eyes darting up to focus on Jim's face.

He keeps petting Jack, trying not to think too hard about what Bones and Christine are doing. 

It seems only seconds later that someone grasps Jim's shoulder and says, "Hey," in a gruff voice.

"Hmm?" Jim moves too quickly, knocks his head against wood, and swears before he realizes that he's stretched out on one of the hard wood reception benches. He half-flails for a moment like a fish caught out of water before he looks around wildly to orient himself. On the floor below him, he sees Jack curled up with his tail thumping, obviously overjoyed that Bones is standing over them both. 

"Sorry, hey," Jim says thickly as he swings himself up to full sitting position. Bones watches him, his face unreadable. "I didn't mean to...anyway." He widens his eyes in an effort to wake up faster. "Is Sammy okay? What's happening?"

When Bones crosses his arms and stares at Jim, he looks very foreboding and Jim can feel his chest constrict. Then some kind of tension seems to leave Bones's shoulders and he slumps a little and runs a hand through his hair. That's somehow worse, and immediately Jim's brain flashes to that last image of Sammy looking so little on the big examination table, watching Jim leave.

He must make an alarmed noise because Bones shakes his head and says, "Calm down. What's happening is that Sammy is snoozing."

"Is that good?" Jim asks anxiously.

"It's normal. I gave him something for the pain that made him drowsy, and he was probably half-exhausted from all the excitement in the first place. He was pretty brave before he fell asleep, but obviously scared too. So I thought you might want to be there when he regained consciousness, to give him a familiar face to wake up to."

"Where is he?" Jim asks, immediately getting to his feet.

Bones leads the way without another word. This time when Jack rises to follow he doesn't order his dog to stay in the waiting area but lets him fall into step alongside them. 

The three of them make their way to the back of the building, to a kennel area where large crates line the wall. All of them are empty except for one particularly huge crate with a pillow-cushioned floor where Sammy lays on his side, completely knocked out. He looks especially tiny in the big echo-y space surrounding him. 

"Here you go," Bones says, opening the door for Jim. 

Jim falters, not sure if he should try to reach in and give Sammy a stroke or if Bones expects him to talk to Sammy without touching him. 

But in the end he shrugs internally and thinks _fuck it_. Bones has already decided Jim's pretty low because of the whole pet-borrowing and lying situation; there's no point worrying how he'll judge what Jim does now. 

So he crouches down and crawls into the big crate right along with Sammy, letting his legs stick out of the open gate so he can curl up facing the dog. For a moment he just watches the puppy's chest rise and fall. But when he whispers, "Hi Sammy, hi little guy," Sammy's eyelashes begin to flutter.

Sammy blinks, peering at Jim. Though he stays heavy-lidded, looking like he's about to drop off again any moment, he thuds his tail against the cushion and licks Jim's hand.

Outside the crate, Jack shifts his weight from paw to paw and whines. 

"Oh, for -- do you mind?" Bones asks. At first Jim thinks he's scolding his dog, but then he realizes he's asking Jim.

"Um," Jim says in confusion.

"Go on ahead, you big softie," Bones tells Jack.

If anyone had asked Jim, he would have said there's not enough room to add Jack to the cuddle pile. But the black lab picks his way into the crate very carefully. After huffing several times, Jack manages to squash himself against the metal on Sammy's other side.

"He's certainly taken a shine to him," Bones grumbles as Jack gently gives Sammy a welcome-back lick.   
.   
Sammy relaxes and lets out a little sigh before his eyes start to close again.

"I'll give you a few," Bones says gruffly. "When you're ready, head out to the front and we'll talk."

* * *

At first Jim hesitates to leave Sammy alone even if he is out cold again. But as he pauses (mid-way through backing out of the crate, which probably doesn't look super flattering), Jack rests his head on the cushion, as though he's volunteering to remain behind.

"You two going to be okay?" Jim whispers 

Jack tilts his head to the side and then relaxes his face into a grin. It's strangely reassuring.

As he stands up and makes his way back to the reception area, Jim makes sure to text Gaila a photo of Sammy dozing with Jack watching over him, along with a preliminary update. 

He's grinning over Gaila's string of happy emojis over the picture when he arrives in the front room to find Bones standing there alone.

"We checked Sammy out pretty thoroughly." Bones squints at his clipboard as he consults his notes. "He showed discomfort as we manipulated his knees, so at first I worried we were looking at a torn cranial cruciate ligament. But after some follow-up adjustments and checking the MRI results, I think I can say pretty confidently that he strained a tendon in his thigh."

"So it's not too bad?" Jim asks hesitantly. 

"It's eminently treatable," Bones clarifies. "As to how it happened, well, I'd hazard a guess that Sammy may have given himself a strain while running around outside or trying to get away from some bigger dogs."

Jim nods vigorously so he won't make a stricken face; it's awful thinking of poor Sammy scrambling to get away from doggy bullies.

"He'll need anti-inflammatories, regular icing of the injured area and plenty of rest," Bones continues. He looks up, meeting Jim's gaze. "Generally I would say that we would want to see how he's doing after a week. If he was my client, and I could see improvement by then, we would readjust the recommendations. Or, if there's not enough evidence of healing we'd talk about starting physical therapy."

Jim tries to ignore the rush of cold along the back of his neck. "If he was your client... That sounds pretty hypothetical."

"That's because it is," Bones answers evenly. "I know you said you would cover the costs today. But before we go further, I need to know what's going to happen to this dog next."

"What's going to happen next?" Jim repeats with some alarm. "What else is wrong?"

Bones eyes him. "That thorough checkup we did showed he doesn't have a chip. Maybe someone will report him missing, but connecting lost pets and owners doesn't always work out. And when there's an injury and future treatment required, some people won't take the animal back. So because of all that, I need to ask: are we calling around to shelters to see if there's a no-kill place that can take Sammy?" 

"No," Jim blurts out before he can think it through. 

"No?" Bones folds his arms over the clipboard on his chest and waits. 

Jim opens his mouth and closes it again. "I don't know," he says finally. "I mean, I'm starting this graduate program soon. I'll get a stipend but I'm not exactly going to be rolling in dough. Never mind the costs of feeding a dog and all that; I'm not totally sure I'll have time to take care of him."

"All good things to consider before you take on a pet," Bones says quietly. "Money and time are the big ones. You're already laying out some serious cash from the tests and examination we did today, so factor that into your expenses. And as for being short on time, remember this is a puppy. He would need lots of your attention."

"Yeah, I..." Jim tries to swallow but he can't quite make it happen. Despite all the trips back and forth to McCoy Animal Hospital with various friends' pets in tow, he's never thought for two seconds about getting a pet. But he can't stop thinking of the gentle greeting Sammy had given him even though he had been in pain, the way Sammy had tiredly nibbled at his hair when they were waiting together, how relieved Sammy had seemed to see him when Jim helped him wake up.

"I can waive the kenneling fee for him, and have some of the vet techs contact shelters," Bones says. His tone is even; as near as Jim can make out, there's no judgment in it. "If you want, you can pay what you owe me, walk out of here, and never worry about the situation again." 

"No," Jim says slowly. "No, I can't do that."

"You can't pay?" Bones asks. He doesn't seem like he's mad, more like he's waiting for an answer that Jim hasn't stumbled upon himself yet. 

And just like that, Jim decides. "No, I can pay. It's just that I can't walk away without Sammy." He gives Bones a lopsided smile and shrugs. "I can't take it this far with him and leave him alone to face whatever happens next. It's funny, but I think maybe I was supposed to find him today."

Bones eyes him. "Sure, if you believe in that kind of thing."

"Okay." Jim rubs his hands together and tries to rally his resolve despite the list of puppy expenses scrolling through his head. Aside from the current vet bill and basic fees like a doggy license, no doubt Sammy will need a bed and bowls and food and a leash and maybe a harness and obviously plenty of chew toys to keep him occupied while he can't run around at the start of his recovery. "I'm doing this."

Bones nods once. "All right."

Jim's determination doesn't falter, but looking at Bones standing there and regarding him soberly, he deflates a little. "So...about that hypothetical future treatment for Sammy..."

"What about it?" Bones asks. For a guy whose every twitch and scowl usually gives the game away it's pretty impressive how guarded his face is. 

Jim can feel himself about to flat-out beg Bones to be Sammy's vet, but he holds back. Of course it's hard to think of trusting anyone else with Sammy; he's seen firsthand how devoted Bones is with animals. But as much as he wants another in to see Bones again, it was pretty clear the last time that Jim has tested Bones's patience to the limit. He can't take advantage of Bones's professional dedication to try and get what he wants anymore.

"Could you maybe recommend some other vets?" Jim asks. 

Bones plants his hands on his hips. "What do you want me to do that for?"

"So I can make appointments at another animal hospital. I get how you wouldn't want to take on Sammy, not if it means having to see me again."

Instead of instantly accepting Bones crosses his arms over his chest again and glowers. "Oh, you do, huh?"

"Look, you came through today when I didn't know where else to turn, and that's huge. But I'm not going to push you any further. So if you can refer me somewhere else, I'll be happy to pay up and get out of your hair."

"So you're not going to try to push me to see Sammy."

Jim exhales slowly. "No."

"And you're not going to wheedle or flirt to get your way."

"Nope."

"You're telling me that you won't turn up here down the line with some tall tale about a made-up 'emergency' and Sammy trotting behind you? And you won't try to sweet-talk Pavel and josh Christine and bat your eyelashes at my vet techs until you worm your way into one of my examination rooms?"

Jim coughs to hide his laugh; hearing it all summed up like that does make him sound like a gigantic annoyance. "I promise. I'll keep away from you -- from here, from now on."

Bones nods slowly as he scrutinizes Jim.

When there's no reply for a few moments, Jim starts to shift under the weight of that steady gaze. Bones looks super stern and severe. It should make Jim quake in his shoes or start to get indignant that he's being called a huge pest. But for some reason Bones's strict thing always tweaks Jim's attraction to him big time. It makes him want to pull Bones's metaphorical pigtails and tease to see how much he can get away with. And right now, with Bones glaring and pushing out those biceps, and Jim doing his best not to lick his lips and sway a little closer, the tension between them sends a shiver up his back.

So it's stupidly, intensely, mind-blowingly disappointing when Bones lets his arms fall to his sides as if in acquiescence and says in a low voice, "Okay."

"Great, yeah," Jim says. When his voice cracks as he speaks, he flashes a smile to cover it up. "So we'll settle things, and figure out how I should get Sammy home safely, and --"

"No, you knucklehead," Bones interrupts. "I'm saying that you can come back here and that I'll keep on treating Sammy."

Jim's so startled that he grabs the counter to steady himself. "Seriously?" 

"For the love of Pete -- why would I say it if I wasn't serious?" 

When Jim only gapes, Bones sighs. "Obviously it's no big secret that I didn't much like you when we met. And you can bet I wasn't happy when I found out you weren't up front with me. But I've got to say, after seeing you today? I'm impressed with how you're handling all of this business with Sammy. So I'm thinking...maybe I haven't given you a totally fair shot."

"Oh?" It's the only response Jim can come up with, because his brain is spinning.

Bones rounds the corner to head behind the counter. Though Jim instinctively starts fumbling for his wallet, Bones doesn't fire up the computer to work out what Jim owes. Instead, he grabs a business card, one that showcases the raised print _Leonard McCoy/McCoy Animal Hospital_ on the first two lines, and reaches for a pen. 

"Now, don't go calling me all hours of the night," he grumbles as he flips it over and scrawls out a phone number. "But I guess you can call if you're still interested. As long as this isn't just about some silly challenge for you, or about putting a notch wherever people put notches these days." 

"I am," Jim rushes to say. "Still interested. If it helps, I'm more interested in you than I have been with anybody else...ever."

"Yeah, well." Bones mutters. He looks uncomfortable for a second but then the uncertain expression leaves his face, and he thrusts the card out at Jim.

Jim clutches the little card tightly, giving Bones a dazed grin.

"Oh, stop looking at me like that," Bones says gruffly. 

Just then Jack comes prancing out, an inquiring _aroooo?_ greeting them as he stops on Jim's side of the counter.

"Looks like someone wants to remind us that it's nearly dinner time," Bones says. 

Jack puts his paws up on the counter, tail wagging as if he's elated to confirm this very astute assessment. 

"I suppose we should head out back and get Sammy ready to go home with you." Bones stuffs his hands in his pockets; for the first time he looks almost reluctant to talk of Jim leaving.

"Well, it's dinner time all around, right? I mean, yeah, we should get Sammy ready soon. But for now, I could maybe pick us up some sandwiches for us to have here. My treat, you know, as extra thanks for today."

Bones's mouth twists and for a moment Jim braces himself to get turned down once again. But then Bones smiles slowly, an easy, ridiculously gorgeous grin. "Yeah, sure," he says. "I could eat."


	6. EPILOGUE

_Four Months Later..._

 

Jim sticks his no-spill coffee thermos under his arm and pushes his way McCoy Animal Hospital, holding the door open so Sammy can trot through. "Go on," he urges the dog when Sammy halts to sniff frantically at the threshold.

Sammy glances up for a second with a look on his furry face that says he's thinking about planting himself and refusing to move. Sometimes he likes to test boundaries. Who knew that puppies could go through an annoying teenager phase? But every time Sammy tries to initiate a mental tug of war over who's the leader, Jim gets torn between despairing over why he ever wasted all that money on puppy classes, and grinning stupidly at how cute and stubborn Sammy looks when he's trying to get his way.

Luckily this time when Jim repeats, "Go," evenly, Sammy's training kicks in, and he waltzes through the door as though he had always intended to follow orders. 

Though there are some people waiting, it's clear they have arrived during a lull. A man who has two Great Danes bracketing him at each side on the floor is the only one sitting on the reception benches. And at the counter there's just one client remaining, a woman who stands as she fills out paperwork and murmurs distracted reassurances to her mewling kitten that's contained in a zippered leopard-print carry bag. Over in the corner, Jack the dog is clearly taking advantage of the letup in foot traffic; he's sacked out on his bed, fast asleep. Though Sammy pulls on the leash like he wants to reach him, Jim holds the puppy firmly so Jack can keep dozing.

"Hello, Jim," Pavel calls out from behind the counter. "I see you have brought a friend?"

"More like he brought me," Jim says as Christine arrives with her clipboard. At her raised eyebrow, he adds, "I swear I was going to keep walking! But he wouldn't quit tugging until, well, here we were."

"Well, hi there, sweet angel," Christine croons as she stoops down to give Sammy scritches. When he licks her hand enthusiastically and does a little frolic, she pets his side and smiles. "I can't see even a trace of that limp anymore."

"Nope, he's basically a thousand percent better," Jim says proudly. The recovery period had tried both of their stores of patience -- at the start of all the medication-dosing and ice-pack-applying, Sammy had whined so much that Jim had considered investing in noise-canceling headphones. Meanwhile, Jim had apparently made Sammy sad when he'd headed out for morning runs alone while Sammy was still limited to brief walks. Or at least, that's what Jim told himself after he stepped out of the shower one day and found Sammy chewing right through his expensive new running shoes. 

But now Sammy seems as capable and energetic as any other young dog they meet in the park, as if he had never suffered a bad leg strain at all. He stands on his hind legs to steal bacon from the countertop with nary a whimper, and barks in welcome whenever he spots a dog on television instead of shrinking away, and clambers onto Jim's bed whenever he feels like it instead of hiding underneath it -- though he especially likes climbing up there when Jim has gotten distracted and forgotten to wipe off Sammy's muddy puppy feet. To be fair, Jim probably should never have installed that makeshift set of stairs next to the mattress for Sammy to use while he was still all owie; now Sammy expects to have an all-access pass to anywhere with blankets.

"So if he's a thousand percent better, what are you both doing here?" Christine asks as she stands up. 

"Well," Jim hedges, looking down at his perfectly healthy dog. "I figured since we're already here... If Dr. McCoy is in, maybe he could check Sammy out super quickly? I mean, from what I hear, he is the best vet in town, right?" 

Pavel snorts aloud, and doesn't bother to cover his amusement even when Jim gives him a reproachful look. 

"Hmm," Christine murmurs, glancing at her clipboard. "Well, I don't know if he can take on another appointment. He's supposed to leave early today, apparently." She peers over the top of it at Jim. "I would say he's been doing that a lot lately, but that would be indiscreet."

"He can't even see us for like ten seconds?" Jim widens his eyes, giving her a pleading look. Sammy picks up on the cue and cranes his neck up to keep his shiny dark eyes trained on her as well.

"Oh, for --" She sighs and waves them ahead. "Examination Room Seven."

"You're the best, Christine," Jim says happily, already turning toward the familiar hallway.

Sammy starts to scramble as they reach the corner, eager to arrive quickly or maybe just showing off his running abilities. When they enter the room he barks once to declare he's arrived and does a quick snoop around the perimeter.

As he's finishing, Jim pulls the door to and bends down to heft Sammy onto the examination table. He can't resist a muffled, "Oof!" as he does so; Sammy definitely isn't as light as he used to be. "You're gaining for sure, but it's all muscle, right buddy?" he asks Sammy as Sammy paces back and forth along the length of the table, his nose to the cold metal. 

At last Sammy gives up picking up new and exciting scents and sits down with a huff. 

"How about a little company?" 

Sammy head tilts in confusion at the question. But when Jim joins him on the table, he pants agreeably and huddles close. 

Only a minute or so goes by before there's a brisk knock and the door opens. "All right, so what have we got -- oh, it's you," Bones says in surprise. He crosses his arms over his chest and takes a moment to look Jim over. "What are you doing here? Everything okay?"

"Well, it turns out I have an imaginary loyalty punch card to this place," Jim says. "So I figured I'd come over, find out what kind of rewards I get from being a regular."

"Oh, I'll give you rewards," Bones says darkly. He takes two quick steps to stand between Jim's parted knees and yank him close. Then he cradles Jim's face in both hands and kisses him deeply. 

"Those are good rewards," Jim says dazedly when they come up for air. He's clutching Bones's lab coat and has managed to pull it halfway off his broad shoulders already. 

"Well, that's just the beginning," Bones says, sliding his hands down to Jim's hips. "That group project meeting go okay?" When Sammy, who has started gamboling in place waiting for Bones to notice him, lets out an eager yip, Bones lets him sniff and kiss his hand before he rubs the puppy briskly around his collar.

"The --" Jim pauses, distracted from running his hands through Bones's hair, and rests his hands on Bones's chest. "Oh right, yeah; my Quantitative Methods group from this morning. Sure, it's going to be fine. Though I swear, I have to lean on that bunch to make them focus. They'd rather talk theory to impress each other instead of knuckling down for our presentation that's coming up." 

"I suppose groups like that work better when someone's in charge," Bones observes. 

Sammy, who's been pawing at Bones and practically vibrating with excitement, nips at the air as though he's going to bite out of sheer enthusiasm. But when Bones takes hold of his little muzzle briefly, Sammy calms instantly, looking up at Bones with worshipful eyes.

"That'd be me," Jim says. He glances down and grins at Sammy, who is now squirming around the table to show Bones his belly. "When I said we needed to get organized, they elected me to run the show like five seconds later." 

"Count it as a testament to your abilities," Bones says.

"Yeah, maybe."

"Well, I like to see you working hard," Bones says. He gently sets Sammy back on the floor so the dog can go back to exploring and give them a little space. When he straightens, he's got a funny half-smile on his face, the one he shows whenever Jim gets a little hyper talking about his readings for his classes or when Jim tells him about talking foreign policy with his professors outside of class.

"That's what we're there for, right?" Jim says. He can feel his cheeks start to burn, so he clears his throat and flashes Bones a grin. "Anyway, that's enough about my stuff. Any fun stories from your day? Meet any cute cockatoos?" 

But Bones won't be deterred. "Stop trying to change the subject just because you get embarrassed when someone tells you you're worth something. I'm damn proud of you; you know that, don't you?"

"Let's talk after I get my first-term grades; you can be proud of me if I ace everything." Though his professors have given him good feedback (and Chris can't seem to stop grinning and clapping him on the back every time he and Jim meet for coffee), Jim doesn't want to count himself ahead of the game until he's got some proof in his hands. 

Bones huffs and shakes his head. "Maybe you're working a little too hard. Tell you what: how about I take you out tonight? We can go to that noisy smelly bar you like so much, the one where they charge a man ten bucks for whiskey that tastes like piss."

Jim laughs. "Wow, you make it sound so appealing when you describe it like that. You know what I'd rather do, though?" 

"Go to a club?" Bones says with a put-upon sigh. They've been to a few together now at Jim's insistence. Bones's utter disdain for the music and scene is more than worth it when Jim gets to crowd up against him on the dance floor and feel smug that he's landed the hottest and best guy in town. 

Jim pretends to think about it. "Nope. Have a quiet night in with you and Sammy and Jack. We could pick up some dinner on the way back, I could get some reading done while you do your paperwork thing. Then we could watch a little television, cuddle with doggies on the couch --"

"Do it at my place so there's a backyard where we can send the doggies while we head upstairs," Bones suggests.

"Hey, now you're talking," Jim agrees. He hops off the table, smiling when Bones automatically reaches out to make sure he doesn't stumble when he lands. "You sure you're not sick of having me over there all the time, though? I don't want to wear out my welcome." 

Bones shakes his head slowly. "Not a bit," he says gruffly. "In fact, I'm getting used to having you around the place." 

Jim grins. "Oh my god, Bones, coming from you? That's practically an invitation to move in." 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he wants to bite his tongue. Even if Jim feels surer every day that Bones is the kind of guy he can envision living his whole life with, he doesn't want to make things uncomfortable if Bones isn't at the same place yet. "Hey, sorry," he says quickly. "I get that it's too soon to bring that up, and I definitely don't want to weird you out." 

"Well, it is a little early for it, I suppose," Bones says slowly. "And truth be told, usually I'm a cautious guy about taking steps like that. But I think we've got a pretty good thing going so far, don't you?"

Jim nods quickly.

"So I'm up for putting the topic on the table if you are." Bones shrugs. "No pressure. Just something to think about."

"Yeah," Jim says faintly. "Yeah, okay." It's a good thing Bones still has one hand on Jim's side to steady him, or he might have slid to the floor in sheer surprise by now.

All of a sudden Sammy starts scratching gleefully at the door, and they hear an eager _Awoooo woo_ and answering scratches back.

"Guess we can't keep these two apart any longer," Bones says. He moves to open the door and lets Jack romp his way inside. 

"Far be it for us to stand in the way of true puppy love," Jim agrees as he watches Jack and Sammy start to circle, wagging their tails and sniffing each other. 

"Well, now that the gang's all here..." Bones catches Jim's hand and raises it to his lips to kiss his knuckles. 

"Let's head home," Jim finishes with a grin, lacing their fingers together.

***~* the end *~***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is the first McKirk I've written aside from a few ficlets, and I absolutely adored writing Jim and Bones together. 
> 
> Check out the [beautiful and adorable and just utterly perfect fanart](http://rowan-baines.tumblr.com/post/172735934711/jim-kirkleonard-mccoy-for-entrenous88s) that [Rowan Baines](http://rowan-baines.tumblr.com/) made for this story at her tumblr here! Bones and Jim and leetle Sammy! <3
> 
> You can find me [on tumblr here](http://entrenous88.tumblr.com/).


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